







































FROM THE LIBRARY OF 



WILLIAM DUNCAN McKIM 

GRADUATE OF 
COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY 
A. B., 1875; A. M., 1878; M. D., 1878 











A A. 







THE 

PILGRIM'S 

PROGRESS 


m Mrs. W. Duncan McKbn. 






r*- 


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-5 







PORTRAIT OF BUNYAN. 

(From the Statue at Bedford, by Sir Edgar Boehm.) 

























































































THE DE VINNE PRE68, NEW YORK. 











































































































































































































FOREWORDS, 


BY THE REV. H. R. HAWEIS. 



EXT to the Bible^ the ** Pilgrim^s Progress is prob¬ 
ably the book which has exercised more influence 
over the Religion of England than any other. 

It did for Protestantism what Dante did for 
Roman Catholicism — whilst exposing sometimes 
naively its weak points, it affirmed its doctrines, 
and popularized their application to current life. 

It supplied what Milton^s ** Paradise Lost ** failed to give — some 
account of the ethics of the soul. 

From Milton we get our plan of salvation, but from Bunyan we get 
our conceptions of morality and our theory of spiritual development. 

Perhaps few of those many who believe that the Bible is their sole 
spiritual guide realize the extent to which they see the Old Testament 
through Milton^s eyes, and believe in the Gospel according to Bunyan. 

There is yet another parallel. Bunyan supplied that imaginative 
touch and that glow of pictorial sentiment without which no religious 
message seems to win the masses. 

He did with his ** Pilgrim^s Progress — for a somewhat arid and 
stern Evangelicalism which repudiated the saintly legends and the 
material splendors of Rome — what Keble, with his Christian 
Year,^^ did for the dry bones of Anglicanism. 

Keble made Anglicanism poetical. Bunyan made Evangelicalism 
romantic. 










































A greater than Bunyan or Keble adopted a similar method, when, 
as we read, ** Without a parable He taught not the people/^ The ex¬ 
traordinary popularity of Bunyan^s great book, one hundred thousand 
copies of which were circulated in his own lifetime, is not far to seek. 
He embodied his age — not its secular, but its religious side. No man 
could have been less influenced by the decapitation of Charles I, the 
accession of Cromwell, the restoration of that mundane merry mon¬ 
arch, Charles 11. He lived through all these, in and out of prison, 
married and single, with his finger ever on the religious pulse of Eng¬ 
land ; he was as little disturbed by wars and rumors of wars, political 
cabals and commercial bubbles, as were the great violin-makers of 
Brescia and Cremona by the political disturbances and bloody 
squabbles of the small Italian princelets of their day. 

But in providing what the people really wanted, Bunyan was a 
master. They wanted the Bible; Bunyan gave it them. They felt 
its power; Bunyan showed them how to apply it. They kindled to 
its divine words, which they only half understood; Bunyan explained 
them. They needed, above all things, an infallible Book to replace the 
infallible Pope, whom they had knocked down. Bunyan not only told 
them that they might exchange the fallibility of men for the infallibility 
of God, but he provided for them such a battery of texts fitting every 
conceivable emergency and case of conscience that his New Bible 
Christian ceased to miss all those props of life and aids to devotion 
so skilfully devised for her children by the genius and varied mechan¬ 
ism of the Roman Church. And they got it all without the tyranny 
of Rome. 

The impression a man of genius makes upon his age is in direct 
proportion to his intensity. The saints were vast accumulators of 
spiritual life. They were mighty reservoirs from which the people 
drank and went on their way rejoicing. 

Emerson says the difference between great men and others is 
that there are more of them: they are many men rolled into one. 
They are macrocosms. That was true of Bunyan. Some men have 
some religious experience. Bunyan seems to have had all the spiritual 
experiences that could be had. There is no state, from blasphemy to 
ecstasy, which he had not sounded to its depths. Every event of his 
life, and every thought and sentiment came to him as so much teach- 
























ing and discipline. What attracts us to him most is not the soundness 
of his judgment, nor his learning. The intellectual propositions 
which commended themselves to him seem to us often unreasonable, 
and his biblical learning, beyond a marvelous acquaintance with the 
letter of the Bible, is almost nil. He reminds us a little sometimes 
of the unlettered gospeler addressing his audience on the uselessness of 
all human learning and reasoning, when you might have the Word 
of God Himself to enlighten you. 

^^What, my brethren,^^ he exclaimed, ** is the use of it all? Did 
Paul know Greek ? ** 

Had Bunyan known a little more Greek it would have done him 
no harm; and as to the comparative importance of Bible texts, why, it 
never occurred to him that a text was good for anything but edifica¬ 
tion, or that one text was not as good as another, if only it fitted an 
occasion. The Song of Solomon, or the Gospel of John, ^tis all one to 
good Bunyan. There is such a thing as idolatry of the Bible. It 
was the vice of his time, and to this day the Bible Christian suffers 
as Bunyan suffered (and the Church suffers too) from the defects of 
his qualities. 

But his ingenuity is often marvellous, and one great source of his 
power is the often felicitous and sometimes fascinating use which he 
makes of texts. 

** It was builded,^^ he says of the Celestial City, ** of Pearls and pre¬ 
cious Stones, ... so that by reason of the natural glory of the City, 
and the reflection of the Sun-beams upon it, Christian, with desire fell 
sick. Hopeful also had a fit or two of the same Disease. Wherefore 
here they lay by it a while, crying out because of their pangs. If you 
see my Belo')>ed, tell him that I am sick of love/' This is as truly 
poetic as it is undoubtedly quaint. 

Our ** Pilgrim^s Progress ** is not only enlivened by conversations 
full of the deepest and surest spiritual instincts, so that it is a veritable 
manual of conscience cases, but it has what is so often wanting in 
persons of Bunyan^s type of mind, the buirs-eye of wit, which is un¬ 
expectedly turned on to such persons as may be convicted of absurdity 
when they cannot be convinced of sin. The exposure of Mr. Talka¬ 
tive, who would chatter for any length of time about anything plau¬ 
sibly enough, but whose talk ended in smoke, or of Mr. By-ends, who 





























1/1 


was not to be condemned^ according to himself^ as a time server be¬ 
cause his opinions always had the peculiarity of jumping with the 
times^ or of Mr. Money-love, who found it possible to justify the 
morality of any action which brought him cash, are delightful cases 
in point. 

His names alone are of quite monumental significance and sugges¬ 
tiveness. The jury in Vanity Fair, who tried Pilgrim and his friends, 
and consisted, amongst others, of Mr. Blind-man, Mr. No-good, Mr. 
Love-lust, Mr. Live-loose, and Mr. Hate-light, act and speak with 
delicious appropriateness. 

** Away with such a fellow,^^ ** A sorry scrub,^^ ** My heart riseth 
against him,^^ ** Hanging is too good for him! etc. Or consider the 
exquisite feeling which inspired Bunyan with such names as Great- 
heart, Hopeful, Faithful, Evangelist, or such as the Delectable Moun¬ 
tains, the Celestial City, and the King^s Highway, and many more, 
which have become part of almost every Christianas imaginative outfit, 
as he follows in the footsteps of the great Pilgrim. 

It is not necessary here to discuss Bunyan^s theology. It was 
neither better nor worse than that of his age. The fires of hell, the 
forensic view of the Atonement, the material splendors of Heaven, 
his excessive reverence for the letter of the Book, belong rather to the 
form than to the essence of his doctrine, the center of which will 
always remain glowing with the love of God, bright with the disci¬ 
pline of the Soul, and radiating the enthusiasm of Humanity. These 
are the things unseen and eternal, which, when the Pilgrim awakes, 
he will surely find to have been, after all, no dream. 


il 











































































In such a mode; I only thought to make 
I knew not what: nor did I undertake 
Thereby to please my Neighbor; no not I; 

And did it mine own self to gratify. 

Neither did I but vacant seasons spend 
In this my Scribble; nor did I intend 
But to divert myself in doing this, 

From worser thoughts, which make me do amiss. 

Thus I set Pen to Paper with delight. 

And quickly had my thoughts in black and white. 
For having now my Method by the end. 

Still as I puird, it came; and so I pennM 
It down; until at last it came to be. 

For length and breadth the bigness which you see. 

Well, when I had thus put mine ends together, 

I shewM them others, that I might see whether 
They would condemn them, or them justify: 

And some said, let them live; some, let them die. 
Some saidf Johnt print it; others said. Not so: 
Some said. It might do good; others said. No. 

Now was I in a strait, and did not see 
Which was the best thing to be done by me: 

At last I thought. Since you are thus divided, 

I print it will; and so the case decided. 

For, thought I, Some, I see, would have it done. 
Though others in that Channel do not run; 

To prove then who advised for the best. 

Thus I thought fit to put it to the test. 

I further thought, if now I did deny 
Those that would have it thus, to gratify, 

I did not know but hinder them I might 
Of that which would to them be great delight. 

For those which were not for its coming forth, 

I said to them. Offend you I am loth; 

Yet since your Brethren pleased with it be. 
Forbear to judge, till you do further see. 

If that thou wilt not read, let it alone; 

Some love the meat, some love to pick the bone: 




























Yea, that I might them better palliate, 

I did too with them thus expostulate. 

May I not write in such a stile as this ? 

In such a method too, and yet not miss 
Mine end, thy good ? why may it not be done ? 

Dark Clouds bring Waters, when the bright bring none. 
Yea, dark, or bright, if they their Silver drops 
Cause to descend, the Earth, by yielding Crops, 

Gives praise to both, and carpeth not at either. 

But treasures up the Fruit they yield together: 

Yea, so commixes both, that in her Fruit 
None can distinguish this from that, they suit 
Her well, when hungry: but if she be full. 

She spues out both, and makes their blessings null. 

You see the ways the Fisherman doth take 
To catch the Fish; what Engins doth he make? 

Behold how he ingageth all his Wits, 

Also his Snares, Lines, Angles, Hooks and Nets. 

Yet Fish there be, that neither Hook, nor Line, 

Nor Snare, nor Net, nor Engine can make thine; 

They must be grop^t for, and be tickled too. 

Or they will not be catcht, what e^re you do. 

How doth the Fowler seek to catch his Game, 

By divers means, all which one cannot name ? 

His Gun, his Nets, his Limetwigs, light, and bell: 

He creeps, he goes, he stands; yea who can tell 
Of all his postures. Yet there^s none of these 
Will make him master of what Fowls he please. 

Yea, he must Pipe, and Whistle to catch this; 

Yet if he does so, that Bird he will miss. 

If that a Pearl may in a Toads-head dwell. 

And may be found too in an Oystershell; 

If things that promise nothing, do contain 
What better is than Gold; who will disdain, 

(That have an inkling of it,) there to look. 

That they may find it. Now my little Book, 

(Tho^ void of all those paintings that may make 
It with this or the other Man to take,) 

xiii 
















































































But must I needs want solidness, because 
By Metaphors I speak; Was not Gods Laws, 

His Gospel-Laws, in older time held forth 
By Types, Shadows and Metaphors ? Yet loth 
Will any sober man be to find fault 
With them, lest he be found for to assault 
The highest Wisdom, No, he rather stoops. 

And seeks to find out what by pins and loops. 

By Calves, and Sheep, by Heifers, and by Rams; 
By Birds, and Herbs and by the blood of Lambs, 
God speaketh to him. And happy is he 
That finds the light, and grace that in them be. 

Be not too forward therefore to conclude. 

That I want solidness, that I am rude: 

All things solid in shew, not solid be; 

All things in parables despise not we. 

Lest things most hurtful lightly we receive. 

And things that good are, of our souls bereave. 
My dark and cloudy words they do but hold 
The Truth, as Cabinets inclose the Gold, 

The Prophets used much by Metaphors 
To set forth Truth; Yea, who so considers 
Christ, his Apostles too, shall plainly see. 

That Truths to this day in such Mantles be. 

Am I afraid to say that holy Writ, 

Which for its Stile, and Phrase puts down all Wit, 
Is every where so full of all these things, 

(Dark Figures, Allegories,) yet there springs 
From that same Book that lustre, and those rays 
Of light, that turns our darkest nights to days. 
Come, let my Carper to his Life now look. 

And find There darker lines than in my Book 
He findeth any. Yea, and let him know. 

That in his best things there are worse lines too. 
May we but stand before impartial men. 

To his poor One, I durst adventure Ten, 




























That they will take my meaning in these lines 
Far better than his Lies in Silver Shrines, 

Come, Truth, although in Swadling-clouts, I find 
Informs the Judgment, rectifies the Mind, 

Pleases the Understanding, makes the Will 
Submit; the Memory too it doth fill 
With what doth our Imagination please; 

Likewise, it tends our troubles to appease. 

Sound words I know Timothy is to use, 

And old Wives Fables he is to refuse; 

But yet grave PduU him no where doth forbid 
The use of Parables; in which lay hid 
That Gold, those Pearls, and precious stones that were 
Worth digging for; and that with greatest care. 

Let me add one word more, O man of God I 
Art thou offended ? dost thou wish I had 
Put forth my matter in another dress. 

Or that I had in things been more express ? 

Three things let me propound, then I submit 
To those that are my betters, as is fit. 

L I find not that I am denied the use 
Of this my method, so I no abuse 
Put on the Words, Things, Readers, or be rude 
In handling Figure, or Similitude, 

In application; but, all that I may, 

Seek the advance of Truth, this or that way: 

Denied, did I say ? Nay, I have leave, 

(Example too, and that from them that have 
God better pleased by their words or ways. 

Than any man that breatheth now a-days,) 

Thus to express my mind, thus to declare 
Things unto thee, that excellentest are. 

2. I find that men (as high as Trees) will write 
Dialogue-wise; yet no man doth them slight 
For writing so: Indeed if they abuse 
Truth, cursed be they, and, the craft they use 
















































































































































iinuiu 



I fear that this burden that is upon my back, will sink me lower than the Grave, 























































































































































































PILGRIM’S PROGRESS: 

IN THE SIMILITUDE OF A 

DREAM. 

S I walked through 
the wilderness of 
this world J lighted 
on a certain place^ 
where was a Den; 
and I laid me down 
that place to 
sleep: and as I 
slept I dreamed a 
Dream. I dreamed, 
and behold I sd^u 
a man cloathed 
with RagSt stand¬ 
ing in a certain 
place, with his 
face from his own 
House, a Book in 
his hand, and a 
great burden upon 
his back. I looked, and saw him open the Book, and read therein; 
and as he read, he wept and trembled: and not being able longer to 
contain, he brake out with a lamentable cry; saying, what shall I do? 

In this plight therefore he went home, and refrained himself as long 
as he could, that his Wife and Children should not perceive his dis- 



1 


































mi 


tress; but he could not be silent long, because that his trouble in¬ 
creased: wherefore at length he brake his mind to his Wife and 
Children; and thus he began to talk to them, O my dear Wife, said 
he, and you the Children of my bowels, I your dear friend, am in my¬ 
self undone, by reason of a burden that lieth hard upon me: more¬ 
over, I am for certain informed that this our City will be burned with 
fire from Heaven, in which fearful overthrow, both myself, with 
thee, my Wife, and you my sweet babes, shall miserably come to 
ruin ; except {the which, yet I see not) some way of escape can be 
found, whereby we may be delivered* At this his Relations were 
sore amazed; not for that they believed that what he had said to 
them was true, but because they thought that some frenzy distemper 
had got into his head: therefore, it drawing towards night, and they 
hoping that sleep might settle his brains, with all haste they got him 
to bed; but the night was as troublesome to him as the day: where¬ 
fore instead of sleep¬ 
ing, he spent it in 
sighs and tears. So 
when the morning 
was come, they 
would know how 
he did; he told 
them, worse and 
worse. He also set 
to talking to them 
again, but they be¬ 
gan to be hardened; 
they also thought 
to drive away his 
distemper by harsh 
and surly carriages 
to him: sometimes 
they would deride, 
sometimes they 
would chide, and 


He would also walk solitarily in the Fields. 

2 


















































































Then said Evangelist, If this be thy condition, why standest thou 
still ? He answered, Because I know not whither to go. Then he 
gave him a Parchment Roll, and there was written within. Fly from 
the wrath to come* 

The Man therefore read it, and looking upon Evangelist very care¬ 
fully ; said. Whither must I fly ? Then said Evangelist, pointing with 
his finger over a very wide Field, Do you see yonder Wicket-gate ? 
The Man said. No. Then said the other. Do you see yonder shining 
light ? He said, I think I do. Then said Evangelist, Keep that light 
in your eye, and go up directly thereto, so shalt thou see the Gate; at 
which when thou knockest, it shall be told thee what thou shalt do. 

So I saw in my Dream, that the Man began to run; now he had 
not run far from his own door, but his Wife and Children perceiving 
it, began to cry after him to return: but the Man put his fingers in his 
Ears, and ran on crying. Life, Life, Eternal Life: so he looked not be¬ 
hind him, but fled towards the middle of the Plain. 

The Neighbors also came out to see him run, and as he ran, some 
mocked, others threatned; and some cried after him to return. And 
among those that did so, there were two that were resolved to fetch 
him back by force: the name of the one was Obstinate, and the name 
of the other Pliable* Now by this time the Man was got a good dis¬ 
tance from them; But however they were resolved to pursue him; 
which they did, and in a little time they over-took him. Then said 
the Man, Neighbors, Wherefore are you come) They said. To per- 
swade you to go back with us; but he said. That can by no means 
be: You dwell, said he, in the City of Destruction (the place also 
where I was born,) I see it to be so; and dying there, sooner or 
later, you will sink lower then the Grave, into a place that burns 
with Fire and Brimstone; Be content good Neighbors, and go along 
with me. 

What! said Obstinate, and leave our Friends, and our comforts 
behind us I 

Yes, said Christian, (for that was his name) because that all is not 
worthy to be compared with a little of that that I am seeking to enjoy, 
and if you will go along with me, and hold it, you shall fare as I my¬ 
self ; for there where I go, is enough, and to spare; Come away, and 
prove my words. 


4 

































The Man put his fingers in his Ears, and ran on crying, Life, Life, Eternal Life. 




































































































































Obs. What are the things you seeK since you leave all the World to 
find them ? 

Chr. I seek an Inheritance^ incorruptiblet undefiledt and that fadeth 
not away ; and it is laid up in Heaven, and safe there, to be bestowed 
at the time appointed on them that diligently seek it. Read it so, if 
you will, in my Book. 

Obs. Tushf said Obstinate, away with your Book; will you go 
back with us, or no ? 

Chr. No, not I, said the other; because I have laid my hand to the 
Plough. 

Obs. Come then. Neighbor Pliable, let us turn again, and go home 
without him; There is a Company of these Craz'd-headed Cox¬ 
combs, that when they take a fancy by the end, are wiser in their 
own eyes than seven men that can render a Reason* 

Pli. Then said Pliable, Don^t revile; if what the good Christian 
says is true, the things he looks after, are better than ours: my heart 
inclines to go with my Neighbor. 

Obs. What I more Fools still ? be ruled by me and go back ; who 
knows whither such a brainsick fellow will lead you ? Go back, go 
back, and be wise. 

Chr. Nay, but do thou come with me Neighbor Pliable; there are 
such things to be had which I spoke of, and many more Glories be¬ 
sides. If you believe not me, read here in this Book; and for the 
truth of what is exprest therein, behold all is confirmed by the blood 
of him that made it. 

Pli. Well Neighbor Obstinate, {said Pliable) I begin to come to a 
point; I intend to go along with this good man, and to cast in my lot 
with him : But my good Companion, do you know the way to this 
desired place ? 

Chr. I am directed by a man whose name is Evangelist, to speed 
me to a little Gate that is before us, where we shall receive instruction 
about the way. 

Pli. Come then good Neighbor, let us be going. Then they went 
both together. 

Obs. And I will go back to my place, said Obstinate. I will be no 
Companion of such misled fantastical Fellows. 

Now I saw in my Dream, that when Obstinate was gone back. 

































































row; For he that is owner of the place, will wipe all tears from 
our eyes. 

Pli. And what company shall we have there ? 

Chr. There we shall be with Seraphims^ and Cherahtns, Creatures 
that will dazzle your eyes to look on them: There also you shall meet 
with thousands, and ten thousands that have gone before us to that 
place; none of them are hurtful, but loving, and holy: every one walk¬ 
ing in the sight of God, and standing in his presence with acceptance 
for ever. In a word, there we shall see the Elders with their Golden 
Crowns: there we shall see the Holy Virgins with their Golden Harps: 
there we shall see Men that by the World were cut in pieces, burned 
in flames, eaten of Beasts, drowned in the Seas, for the love that they 
bare to the Lord of the place, all well, and cloathed with Immortality 
as with a Garment. 

Pli. The hearing of this is enough to ravish ones heart; but are 
these things to be enjoyed} How shall we get to be Sharers hereof? 

Chr. The Lord, the Governor of that Country, hath recorded that 
in this Book: the substance of which is. If we be truly willing to have 
it, he will bestow it upon us freely. 

Pli. Wellt my good Companion, glad am I to hear of these things: 
Come on, let us mend our pace. 

Chr. I cannot go so fast as I would, by reason of this burden that 
is upon my back. 

Now I saw in my Dream, that just as they had ended this talk, 
they drew near to a very Miry Slough, that was in the midst of the 
Plain, and they being heedless, did both fall suddenly into the bog. 
The name of the Slough was Dispond. Here therefore they wal¬ 
lowed for a time, being grievously bedaubed with the dirt; and Chris¬ 
tian, because of the burden that was on his back, began to sink in the 
Mire. 

Pli. Then said Pliable, Ah, Neighbor Christian, ’Yi)here are you ndtP ? 

Chr. Truly, said Christian, I do not know. 

Pli. At that Pliable began to be offended; and angerly said to his 
Fellow, Is this the happiness you have told me all this yt)hile of? If 
we have such ill speed at our first setting out, what may we expect, 
'twixt this and our Journeys end ? May I get out again with my life. 




































The name of the Sloug^h was Dispond. 


























































































































































































































































































































(and they that can tell, say, they are the best Materials to make good 
ground of the place;) if so be it might have been mended; but it is the 
Slough of Dispond still, and so will be, when they have done what 
they can. 

True, there are by the direction of the Lawgiver, certain good and 
substantial Steps, placed even through the very midst of this Slough ; 
but at such time as this place doth much spue out its filth, as it doth 
against change of Weather, these steps are hardly seen ; or if they be. 
Men through the dizziness of their heads, step besides; and then they 
are bemired to purpose, notwithstanding the steps be there; but the 
ground is good when they are once got in at the Gate. 

Now I saw in my Dream, that by this time Pliable was got home 
to his House again. So his Neighbors came to visit him; and some of 
them called him wise Man for coming back; and some called him Fool, 
for hazarding himself with Christian; others again did mock at his Cow¬ 
ardliness; saying. Surely since you began to venture, I would not 
have been so base to have given out for a few difficulties. So Pliable 
sat sneaking among them. But at last he got more confidence, and 
then they all turned their tales, and began to deride poor Christian be¬ 
hind his back. 

And thus much concerning Pliable. 

Now as Christian was walking solitary by himself, he espied one 
afar off come crossing over the field to meet him; and their hap was 
to meet just as they were crossing the way of each other. The Gen- 
tleman^s name was Mr. Worldly-Wiseman; he dwelt in the Town 
of Camal-Policyt a very great Town, and also hard by from whence 
Christian came. This man then meeting with Christian, and having 
some inkling of him,— for Christianas setting forth from the City of 
Destruction was much noised abroad, not only in the Town where he 
dwelt, but also it began to be the Town-{a\k in some other places.— 
Master Worldly-Wiseman therefore, having some guess of him, by 
beholding his laborious going, by observing his sighs and groans, 
and the like, began thus to enter into some talk with Christian. 

World. How now, good fellowt whither away after this bur¬ 
dened manner? 

Chr. a burdened manner indeed, as ever I think poor creature had. 
And whereas you ask me. Whither away^ I tell you. Sir, I am going 



































By this time Pliable was got home to his House again. So his Neighbours came to visit him; and some of them called 

him wise Man for coming back; and some called him Fool. 































































































































































to yonder Wicket-gate before me; for there^ as I am informed, I shall 
be put into a way to be rid of my heavy burden. 

World. Hast thou a Wife and Children ? 

Chr. Yes, but I am so laden with this burden, that I cannot take 
that pleasure in them as formerly: methinks, I am as if I had none. 

World. Wilt thou hearken to met if I give thee counsel ? 

Chr. If it be good, I will; for I stand in need of good counsel. 

World. I would advise thee thent that thou with all speed get 
thyself rid of thy burden ; for thou wilt never be settled in thy mind 
till then : nor canst thou enjoy the benefits of the blessing which God 
hath bestowed upon thee till them 

Chr. That is that which I seek for, even to be rid of this heavy 
burden; but get it off my self I cannot: nor is there a man in our 
Country that can take it off my shoulders; therefore am I going this 
way, as I told you, that I may be rid of my burden. 

World. Who bid thee go this way to be rid of thy burden ? 

Chr. a man that appeared to me to be a very great and honorable 
person; his name, as I remember, is Evangelist. 

World. I beshrow him for his counsel; there is not a more dan¬ 
gerous and troublesome way in the world than is that unto which he 
hath directed thee; and that thou shalt find if thou wilt be ruled by 
his counsel. Thou hast met with something (as I perceive) already; 
for I see the dirt of the Slough of Dispond is upon thee; but that 
Slough is the beginning of the sorrows that do attend those that go on 
in that way. Hear me, I am older than thou I thou art like to meet 
with in the way which thou goestt Wearisomness, Painfulness, Hun¬ 
ger, Perils, Nakedness, Sword, Lions, Dragons, Darkness, and in a 
word, death, and what not ? These things are certainly true, having 
been confirmed by many testimonies. And why should a man so care¬ 
lessly cast away himself, by giving heed to a stranger ? 

Chr. Why, Sir, this burden upon my back is more terrible to me 
than all these things which you have mentioned: nay, methinks I care 
not what I meet with in the way, so be I can also meet with deliver¬ 
ance from my burden. 

World. How earnest thou by thy burden at first ? 

Chr. By reading this Book in my hand. 

World. I thought so; and it is happened unto thee as to other 
weak men, who meddling with things too high for them, do suddenly 

































fall into thy distrac¬ 
tions ; which dis¬ 
tractions do not 
only unman men, 
(as thine I perceive 
has done thee) but 
they run them upon 
desperate ventures, 
to obtain they know 
not what* 

Chr. I know 
what I would ob¬ 
tain; it is ease for 
my heavy burden. 

World. But 
why l^ilt thou seek 
for ease this way, 
seeing so many dan- 

The Gentleman’s name was Mr. Worldly - Wiseman, gerS attend it, espe¬ 

cially, since (hadst thou but patience to hear me,) I could direct thee to 
the obtaining ofluphat thou desirest, without the dangers that thou in 
this way wilt run thy self into: yea, and the remedy is at hand. Be¬ 
sides, I %?/// add, that instead of those dangers, thou shalt meet with 
much safety, friendship, and content, 

Chr. Pray, Sir open this secret to me. 

World. Why in yonder Village, (the Village is named Morality) 
there d7t>ells a Gentleman, Ji>hose name is Legality, a very judicious 
man (and a man of a very good name) that has skill to help men off 
iPDith such burdens as thine are from their shoulders: yea, to my knoJi>- 
ledge he hath done a great deal of good this way : Aye, and besides, he 
hath skill to cure those that are somewhat crazed in their wits J^ith 
their burdens. To him, as I said, thou mayest go, and be helped pres¬ 
ently, His house is not quite a mile from this place; and if he should 
not be at home himself, he hath a pretty young man to his Son, whose 
name is Civility, that can do it (to speak on) as as the old Gen¬ 
tleman himself: There, I say, thou mayest be eased of thy burden, and 
if thou art not minded to go back to thy former habitation, as indeed 1 























































would not wish theCt thou mayest send for thy Wife and Children to 
thee to this Village, where there are houses no7t> stand empty, one of 
iPhich thou mayest have at reasonable rates: Provision is there also 
cheap and good, and that which will make thy life the more happy, 
is, to be sure there thou shalt live by honest neighbors, in credit and 
good fashion. 

Now was Christian somewhat at a stand, but presently he con¬ 
cluded ; if this be true which this Gentleman hath said, my wisest 
course is to take his advice; and with that he thus farther spoke. 

Chr. Sir, which is my way to this honest man^s house ? 

World. Do you see yonder high hill ? 

Chr. Yes, very well. 

World. By that Hill you must go, and the first house you come 
at is his. 

So Christian turned out of his way to go to Mr. Legality's house 
for help: but behold, when he was got now hard by the Hill, it 
seemed so high, and also that side of it that was next the way side did 
hang so much over, that Christian was afraid to venture further, lest 
the Hill should fall on his head: wherefore there he stood still, and he 
wot not what to do. Also his burden, now, seemed heavier to him 
than while he was in his way. There came also flashes of fire out of 
the Hill, that made Christian afraid that he should be burned. Here 
therefore he sweat, and did quake for fear. And now he began to be 
sorry that he had taken Mr. Worldly-Wisemans counsel; and with 
that he saw Evangelist coming to meet him; at the sight also of 
whom he began to blush for shame. So Evangelist drew nearer 
and nearer, and coming up to him, he looked upon him with a 
severe and dreadful countenance: and thus began to reason with 
Christian. 

Evan. What doest thou here ? Christian, said he ? at which word 
Christian knew not what to answer: wherefore, at present he stood 
speechless before him. Then said Evangelist farther, cArt not thou 
the man that I found crying without the J^alls of the City of De¬ 
struction ? 

Chr. Yes, dear Sir, I am the man. 

Evan. Did not I direct thee the way to the little Wicket-gate ? 

Chr. Yes, dear Sir, said Christian. 


























































Then Christian fell down at his foot as dead, crying, Woe is me, 
for I am undone: at the sight of which Evangelist caught him 
by the right hand, saying, all manner of sin and blasphemies shall 
be forgiven unto men; be not faithless, but believing; then did 
Christian again a little revive, and stood up trembling, as at first, 
before Evangelist. 

Then Evangelist proceeded, saying, Gi'be more earnest heed to the 
things that I shall tell thee of. I will now shew thee who it was that 
deluded thee, and who ^twas also to whom he sent thee. The man 
that met thee, is one Worldly - Wiseman, and rightly is he so called; 
partly, because he savoureth only the Doctrine of this world (therefore 
he always goes to the Town of Morality to Church) and partly be¬ 
cause he loveth that Doctrine best, for it saveth him from the Cross; 
and because he is of this carnal temper, therefore he seeketh to prevent 
my ways, though right. Now there are three things in this mans 
counsel that thou must utterly abhor: 

1. His turning thee out of the way. 

2. His labouring to render the Cross odious to thee. 

3. And his setting thy feet in that way that leadeth unto the admin¬ 
istration of Death. 

First, Thou must abhor his turning thee out of the way; yea, and 
thine own consenting thereto: because this is to reject the counsel of 
God, for the sake of the counsel of a Worldly - Wiseman. The Lord 
says. Strive to enter in at the strait gate, the gate to which I sent thee; 
for strait is the gate that leadeth unto life, and few there be that find 
it. From this little wicket-gate, and from the way thereto hath this 
wicked man turned thee, to the bringing of thee almost to destruction; 
hate therefore his turning thee out of the way, and abhor thyself for 
hearkening to him. 

Secondly, Thou must abhor his labouring to render the Cross odi¬ 
ous unto thee; for thou art to prefer it before the treasures of Egypt: 
besides, the King of Glory hath told thee, that he that will save his life, 
shall lose it: and he that comes after him, and hates not his father, 
and mother, and wife, and children, and brethren, and sisters ; yea, 
and his ol^n life also, he cannot be my Disciple. I say therefore, for 
a man to labour to perswade thee, that that shall be thy death, without 
which the truth hath said, thou canst not have eternal life. This Doc¬ 
trine thou must abhor. 

17 


3 



























Thirdly, Thou must hate his setting of thy feet in the way that 
leadeth to the ministration of death. And for this thou must consider 
to whom he sent thee, and also how unable that person was to deliver 
thee from thy burden. 

He to whom thou wast sent for ease, being by name Legality, is 
the Son of the Bond-woman which now is, and is in bondage with 
her children, and is in a mystery this Mount Sinai, which thou hast 
feared will fall on thy head. Now if she with her children are in 
bondage, how canst thou expect by them to be made free? This 
Legality therefore is not able to set thee free from thy burden. No 
man was as yet ever rid of his burden by him, no, nor ever is like to 
be: ye cannot be justified by the Works of the Law; for by the deeds 
of the Law no man living can be rid of his burden: therefore Mr. 
Worldly-Wiseman is an alien, and Mr. Legality a cheat: and for his 
son Civility, notwithstanding his simpering looks, he is but an hypo¬ 
crite, and cannot help thee. Believe me, there is nothing in all this 
noise, that thou hast heard of this sottish man, but a design to beguile 
thee of thy Salvation, by turning thee from the way in which I had 
set thee. After this Evangelist called aloud to the Heavens for confir¬ 
mation of what he had said; and with that there came words and fire 
out of the Mountain under which poor Christian stood, that made the 
hair of his flesh stand. The words were thus pronounced. As many 
as are of the works of the Law, are under the curse; for it is 
written. Cursed is eJfery one that continueth not in all things which 
are h^ritten in the Book of the Law to do them. 

Now Christian looked for nothing but death, and began to cry out 
lamentably, even cursing the time in which he met with Mr. Worldly- 
Wiseman, still calling himself a thousand fools for hearkening to his 
counsel: he also was greatly ashamed to think that this Gentleman^s 
arguments, flowing only from the flesh, should have that prevalency 
with him to forsake the right way. This done, he applied himself 
again to Evangelist in words and sense as follows. 

Chr. Sir, what think you ? is there hopes ? may I now go back, 
and go up to the Wicket-gate ? Shall I not be abandoned for this, and 
sent back from thence ashamed ? lam sorry I have hearkened to this 
man^s counsel, but may my sin be forgiven ? 

Evang. Then said Evangelist to him. Thy sin is very great, for by 
it thou hast committed two evils; thou hast forsaken the way that is 




































And with that there came words and fire out of the Mountain under which poor ChristUn stood. 

good^ to tread in forbidden paths: yet will the man of the Gate receive 
thee, for he has good will for men; only, said he, take heed that thou 
turn not aside again, lest thou perish from the way when his wrath is 
kindled but a little. Then did Christian address himself to go back, 
and Evangelist, after he had kist him, gave him one smile, and bid 
him God speed: so he went on with haste, neither spake he to any 
man by the way; nor if any man asked him, would he vouchsafe 
them an answer. He went like one that was all the while treading 
on forbidden ground, and could by no means think himself safe, till 
again he was got into the way which he left to follow Mr. Worldly- 
Wiseman's counsel. So in process of time, Christian got up to the 
Gate. Now over the Gate there was written. Knock and it shall 
be opened unto you. He knocked therefore, more than once or twice, 
saying. 

May I noJP enter here ? vuill he within 
Open to sorry me, though I have been 
An undeserving Rebel ? then shall I 
Not fail to sing his lasting praise on high. 

At last there came a grave Person to the Gate, named Goodwill, who 
asked Who was there ? and Ivhence he came} and Ivhat he iVould 
have } 

Chr. Here is a poor burdened sinner. I come from the City of 
Destruction, but am going to Mount Zion, that I may be delivered 
from the wrath to come. I would therefore. Sir, since I am informed 

19 


































Them that arc with him shoot Arrows at those that come up 
to this Gate. 

Gate, there is erected a strong Castle, of which Beelzebub is the 
Captain: from thence both he, and them that are with him shoot 
Arrows at those that come up to this Gate; if haply they may die 
before they can enter in. Then said Christian, I rejoice and tremble. 
So when he was got in, the Man of the Gate asked him. Who 
directed him thither? 

Chr. Evangelist bid me come hither and knock, (as I did;) And he 
said, that you. Sir, would tell me what I must do. 

Good Will. An open Door is set before thee, and no man can 
shut it* 

Chr. Now I begin to reap the benefits of my hazards. 

Good Will. But holPo is it that you came alone ? 

Chr. Because none of my Neighbors saw their danger, as I saw mine. 

Good Will. Did any of them knoJP of your coming ? 

Chr. Yes, my Wife and Children saw me at the first, and called 
after me to turn again: Also some of my Neighbors stood crying, and 
calling after me to return; but I put my Fingers in my Ears, and so 
came on my way. 20 




















So, when Christian was stepping in, the other gave him a pull, 














































































































































































































































































































































































































































































Good Will. But did none of them /b//o%> yout to pers'Hfdde you to 
go back ? 

Chr. Yes, both Obstinate t and Pliable: But when they saw that 
they could not prevail, Obstinate went railing back; but Pliable came 
with me a little way. 

Good Will. But Jphy did he not come through ? 

Chr. We indeed came both together, until we came at the Slough 
of Dispond, into the which we also suddenly fell. And then was my 
Neighbor Pliable discouraged, and would not adventure further. 
Wherefore getting out again, on that side next to his own House, 
he told me, I should possess the brave Country alone for him: So 
he went his way, and I came mine. He after Obstinate, and I to 
this Gate. 

Good Will. Then said Good Will, Alas poor Man, is the 
Coelestial Glory of so small esteem with him, that he counteth it not 
worth running the hazards of a few difficulties to obtain it. 

Chr. Truly, said Christian, I have said the truth of Pliable, and if 
I should also say the truth of myself, it will appear there is no betterment 
^twixt him and myself. ^Tis true, he went back to his own house, 
but I also turned aside to go in the way of death, being perswaded 
thereto by the carnal arguments of one Mr. Worldly - Wiseman, 

Good Will. Oh, did he light upon you ? what, he would have had 
you a sought for ease at the hands of Mr. Legality; they are both of 
them a very cheat: But did you take his counsel ? 

Chr. Yes, as far as I durst: I went to find out Mr. Legality, until 
I thought that the Mountain that stands by his house, would have 
fallen upon my head: wherefore there I was forced to stop. 

Good Will. That Mountain has been the death of many, and will 
be the death of many more: ^tis well you escaped being by it dasht in 
pieces. 

Chr. Why, truly I do not know what had become of me there, 
had not Evangelist happily met me again as I was musing in the 
midst of my dumps: but ^twas Gods mercy that he came to me 
again, for else I had never come hither. But now I am come, such a 
one as I am, more fit indeed for death by that Mountain, than thus to 
stand talking with my Lord: But O, what a favour is this to me, 
that yet I am admitted entrance here. 
























Good Will. Wc make no objections against any, notwithstanding 
all that they have done before they come hither, they in no wise are 
cast out, and therefore, good Chnstiarit come a little way with me, 
and I will teach thee about the way thou must go. Look before thee; 
dost thou see this narrow way ? THAT is the way thou must go. 
It was cast up by the Patriarchs, Prophets, Christ, and his Apostles; 
and it is as straight as a Rule can make it: This is the way Thou 
must go. 

Chr. But said Christian, Is there no turnings nor windings by 
which a Stranger may lose the way ? 

Good Will. Yes, there are many ways butt down upon this; 
and they are crooked, and wide: But thus thou may^st distinguish the 
right from the wrong. That only being straight and narrow. 

Then I saw in my Dream, That Christian asked him further. If he 
could not help him off with his burden that was upon his back; for as 
yet he had not got rid thereof, nor could he by any means get it off 
without help. 

He told him; As to thy burden, be content to bear it, until thou 
comest to the place of Deliverance; for there it will fall from thy back 
itself. 

Then Christian began to gird up his loins, and to address himself to 
his Journey. So the other told him, that by that he was gone some 
distance from the Gate, he would come at the House of the Inter¬ 
preter; at whose Door he should knock; and he would shew him 
excellent things. Then Christian took his leave of his Friend, and he 
again bid him God speed. 

Then he went on, till he came at the House of the Interpreter, 
where he knocked over and over : at last one came to the Door, and 
asked Who was there ? 

Chr. Sir, here is a Traveller, who was bid by an acquaintance of 
the Good-man of this House, to call here for my profit: I would there¬ 
fore speak with the Master of the House. So he called for the Master 
of the House; who after a little time came to Christian, and asked 
him what he would have ? 

Chr. Sir, said Christian, I am a Man that am come from the 
City of Destruction, and am going to the Mount Zion, and I was told 
by the Man that stands at the Gate, at the head of this way. That if I 

























called here, you 
would shew me 
excellent things^ 
such as would be 
an help to me in 
my Journey. 

Inter. Then 
said the Interpre¬ 
ter, Come in, I will 
shew thee that 
which will be prof- 

The name of the eldest was Passion, and of the other Patience, itable tO thee So 

he commanded his Man to light the Candle, and bid Christian follow 
him; so he had him into a private Room, and bid his Man open a 
Door; the which when he had done, Christian saw the Picture of a 
very grave Person hang up against the Wall, and this was the fashion 
of it. It had eyes lift up to Hea'ben, the best of Books in his hand, 
the La'U) of Truth was written upon his lips, the World was behind 
his back ; it stood as if it pleaded with cMen, and a Crown of Gold 
did hang over his head, 

Chr. Then said Christian, What means this ? 

Inter. The Man whose Picture this is, is one of a thousand; he 
can beget Children, travel in birth with Children, and nurse them him¬ 
self when they are born. And whereas thou seest him with his eyes 
lift up to Heaven, the best of Books in his hand, and the Law of 
Truth writ on his lips: it is to shew thee, that his work is to know 
and unfold dark things to sinners; even as also thou seest him stand 
as if he pleaded with Men: And whereas thou seest the World as cast 
behind him, and that a Crown hangs over his head; that is, to shew 
thee that slighting and despising the things that are present, for the 
love that he hath to his Masters service, he is sure in the World that 
comes next to have Glory for his Reward. Now, said the Interpreter, 
I have shewed thee this Picture first, because the Man whose Picture 
this is, is the only Man, whom the Lord of the Place whither thou art 
going, hath authorized to be thy Guide in all difficult places thou 
mayest meet with in the way: wherefore take good heed to what I 

24 




























SI 




have shewed thee, and bear well in thy mind what thou hast seen; 
lest in thy Journey thou meet with some that pretend to lead thee 
right, but their way goes down to death. 

Then he took him by the hand, and led him into a very large Par¬ 
lour that was full of dust, because never swept; the which, after he 
had reviewed a little while, the Interpreter called for a man to sweep* 
Now when he began to sweep, the dust began so abundantly to fly 
about, that Christian had almost therewith been choaked. Then said 
the Interpreter to a Damsel that stood by. Bring hither the Water, and 
sprinkle the Room; which when she had done, it was swept and 
cleansed with pleasure. 

Chr. Then said Christian, What means this '? 

Inter. The Interpreter answered; this Parlour is the heart of a 
Man that was never sanctified by the sweet Grace of the Gospel: the 
dust is his Original Sin, and inward Corruptions that have defiled the 
whole Man. He that began to sweep at first is the Law; but She 
that brought water, and did sprinkle it, is the Gospel. Now, whereas 
thou sawest that so soon as the first began to sweep, the dust did so 
fly about that the Room by him could not be cleansed, but that thou 
wast almost choaked therewith: this is to shew thee, that the Law, 
instead of cleansing the heart (by its working) from sin, doth revive, 
put strength into, and increase it in the soul, even as it doth discover 
and forbid it, but doth not give power to subdue. 

Again, as thou sawest the Damsel sprinkle the Room with Water, 
upon which it was cleansed with pleasure; this is to shew thee, that 
when the Gospel comes in the sweet and precious influences thereof 
to the heart, then, I say, even as thou sawest the Damsel lay the dust 
by sprinkling the Floor with Water, so is sin vanquished and sub¬ 
dued, and the soul made clean, through the faith of it, and conse¬ 
quently fit for the King of Glory to inhabit. 

I saw moreover in my Dream, that the Interpreter took him by the 
hand, and had him into a little Room, where sate two little Children, 
each one in his Chair. The name of the eldest was Passiom and of 
the other Patience* Passion seemed to be much discontent, but Pa¬ 
tience was very quiet. Then Christian asked. What is the reason of 
the discontent of Passion ? The Interpreter answered. The Governor 

25 


4 


















5Ut7!i 



of them would have him stay for his best things till the beginning of 
the next year; but he will have all now: But Patience is willing to wait. 

Then I saw that one came to Passion, and brought him a Bag of 
Treasure, and poured it down at his feet; the which he took up, and 
rejoiced therein; and withal, laughed Patience to scorn. But I beheld 
but a while, and he had lavished all away, and had nothing left him 
but Rags. 

Chr. Phen said Qiristian to the Interpreter, Expound this matter 
more fully to me* 

Inter. So he said. These two Lads are Figures; Passion, of the 
Men of this World; and Patience, of the Men of that which is to 
come. For as here thou seest. Passion will have all now, this year; 
that is to say, in this World; So are the Men of this World: they 
must have all their good things now, they cannot stay till next Year; 
that is, until the next World, for their Portion of good. That Proverb, 
c/1 Bird in the Hand is worth two in the Bush, is of more Authority 
with them, than are all the Divine Testimonies of the good of the 
World to come. But as thou sawest, that he had quickly lavished all 
away, and had presently left him, nothing but Rags; so will it be 
with all such Men at the end of this World. 

Chr. Then said Christian, Now I see that Patience has the best 
Wisdom; and that upon many accounts* L Because he stays for the 
best things* 2. And also because he will have the glory of his, when 
the other hath nothing but Rags* 

Inter. Nay, you may add another; to wit, the Glory of the next 
world will never wear out; but these are suddenly gone. Therefore 
Passion had not so much reason to laugh at Patience, because he had 
his good things first, as Patience will have to laugh at Passion, because 
he had his best things last; for first must give place to last, because 
last must have his time to come, but last gives place to nothing; for 
there is not another to succeed. He therefore that hath his Portion 
first, must needs have a time to spend it; but he that has his Portion 
last, must have it lastingly. Therefore it is said of Dives, In thy life¬ 
time thou receivedest thy good things, and likewise Lazarus evil 
things ; But now he is comforted, and thou art tormented* 

Chr. Then I perceive, ^tis not best to covet things that are now; 
but to wait for things to come. 

Inter. You say Truth; For the things that are seen, areTzm- 

26 































This fire is the work of Grace that is wrought in the heart; he that casts Water upon it, 
to extinguish and put it out, is the DeviU 



































































poral; but the things that are not seen, are Eternal. But though this 
be so; yet since things present, and our fleshly appetite, are such near 
cNfighbors one to another; and again, because things to come, and 
carnal sense, are such strangers one to another: therefore it is, that 
the first of these so suddenly fall into amity, and that distance is so 
continued between the second. 

Then I saw in my Dream, that the Interpreter took Christian by the 
hand, and led him into a place where was a Fire burning against a 
Wall, and one standing by it always, casting much Water upon it to 
quench it: yet did the Fire burn higher and hotter. 

Then said Christian, What means this ? 

The Interpreter answered. This fire is the work of Grace that is 
wrought in the heart; he that casts Water upon it, to extinguish and 
put it out, is the Devil: but in that thou seest the fire notwithstanding 
burn higher and hotter, thou shalt also see the reason of that: So he 
had him about to the back side of the Wall, where he saw a Man 
with a Vessel of Oil in his hand, of the which he did also continually 
cast (but secretly,) into the fire. Then said Christian, What means 
this ? The Interpreter answered. This is Christ, who continually, with 
the Oil of his Grace, maintains the work already begun in the heart; by 
the means of which, notwithstanding what the Devil can do, the souls 
of his People prove gracious still. And in that thou sawest that the 
Man stood behind the Wall to maintain the fire; this is to teach thee, 
that it is hard for the tempted to see how this work of Grace is main¬ 
tained in the soul. 

I saw also that the Interpreter took him again by the hand, and led 
him into a pleasant place, where was builded a stately Palace, beautiful 
to behold; at the sight of which, Christian was greatly delighted; he 
saw also upon the top thereof, certain Persons walked, who were 
cloathed all in Gold. Then said Christian, May we go in thither? 
Then the Interpreter took him, and led him up toward the door of the 
Palace; and behold, at the door stood a great Company of men, as 
desirous to go in, but durst not. There also sat a Man, at a little 
distance from the door, at a Table-side, with a Book, and his Inkhorn 
before him, to take the Name of him that should enter therein: He 
saw also that in the doorway, stood many Men in Armor to keep it; 
being resolved to do to the Man that would enter, what hurt and mis- 























chief they could* Now was Christian somewhat in a maze: at last, 
when every Man started back for fear of the armed men; Christian 
saw a Man of a very stout countenance come up to the Man that sat 
there to write; saying, Set down my name. Sir ; the which when he 
had done, he saw the Man draw his Sword, and put an Helmet upon 
his Head, and rush toward the door upon the armed men, who laid 
upon him with deadly force; but the Man, not at all discouraged, fell 
to cutting and hacking most fiercely; so, after he had received and 
given many wounds to those that attempted to keep him out, he cut 
his way through them all, and pressed forward into the Palace; at 
which there was a pleasant voice heard from those that were within, 
even of those that walked upon the top of the Palace, saying. 

Come in. Come in; 

Eternal Glory thou shalt win. 

So he went in, and was cloathed with such Garments as they. Then 
Christian smiled, and said, I think verily I know the meaning of this. 

Now, said Chris¬ 
tian, let me go 
hence: Nay stay 
(said the Interpre¬ 
ter,) till I have 
shewed thee a little 
more, and after that 
thou shalt go on 
thy way. So he 
took him by the 
hand again, and led 
him into a very 
dark Room, where 
there sat a Man in 
an Iron Cage. 

Now the Man, 
to look on, seemed 
very sad: he sat 
with his eyes look¬ 
ing down to the 


There also sat a Man ... at a Table-s’de, with a Book and his Ink- 
hom before him, to take the Name of him that should enter therein. 
29 









































So he took him by the hand again^ and led him into a very dark Room, where there sat a Man in an Iron Cage« 





































































































































































































































































































Gather my Wheat into the Gamer. 

Man. God hath denied me repentance; his Word gives me no 
encouragement to believe; yea, himself hath shut me up in this Iron 
Cage; nor can all the men in the World let me out. O Eternity! 
Eternity! how shall I grapple with the misery that I must meet with 
in Eternity! 

Inter. Then said the Interpreter to Christian^ Let this mans misery 
be remembred by thee, and be an everlasting caution to thee. 

Chr. Well, said Christian, this is fearful; God help me to watch 
and be sober; and to pray, that I may shun the causes of this mans 
misery. Sir, is it not time for me to go on my way now ? 

Inter. Tarry till I shall shew thee one thing more, and then thou 
shalt go on thy way. 

So he took Christian by the hand again, and led him into a Cham¬ 
ber, where the.^'e was one rising out of Bed; and as he put on his 
Raiment, he shook and trembled. Then said Christian, Why doth 
this Man thus tremble ? The Interpreter then bid him tell to Christian 
the reason of his so doing. So he began, and said: This night as I 
was in my sleep, I Dreamed, and behold the Heavens grew exceeding 
black; also it thundred and lightned in most fearful wise, that it put 
me into an Agony. So I looked up in my Dream, and saw the Clouds 
rack at an unusual rate; upon which I heard a great sound of a 
Trumpet, and saw also a Man sit upon a Cloud, attended with the 
thousands of Heaven; they were all in flaming fire, also the Heavens 
were on a burning flame. I heard then a voice, saying. Arise ye 
Dead, and come to Judgment; and with that, the Rocks rent, the 
































Graves opened, & the Dead that-were therein, came forth; some of 
them were exceeding glad, and looked upward; and some sought to 
hide themselves under the Mountains* Then I saw the Man that 
sat upon the Cloud, open the Book; and bid the World draw near. 
Yet there was by reason of a fierce flame that issued out and came 
from before him, a convenient distance betwixt him and them, as 
betwixt the Judge and the Prisoners at the Bar. I heard it also pro¬ 
claimed to them that attended on the Man that sat on the Cloud; 
Gather together the TareSt the Chaffs and Stubble^ and cast them into 
the burning Lake; and with that, the bottomless pit opened, just 
whereabout I stood; out of the mouth of which there came in an 
abundant manner Smoke, and Coals of fire, with hideous noises. It 
was also said to the same persons; Gather my Wheat into the Gamer. 
And with that I saw many catchM up and carried away into the 
Clouds, but I was left behind. I also sought to hide myself, but I 
could not; for the Man that sat upon the Cloud, still kept his eye 
upon me: my sins also came into my mind, and my Conscience did 
accuse me on every side. Upon this I awaked from my sleep. 

Chr. But what was it that made you so afraid of this sight ? 

Man. Why I thought the day of Judgement was come, and that I 
was not ready for it: but this frighted me most, that the Angels 
gathered up several, and left me behind; also the pit of Hell opened 
her mouth just where I stood: my Conscience too afflicted me; and 
as I thought, the Judge had always his eye upon me, shewing indig¬ 
nation in his countenance. 


Gather together the Tares, the Chaff, and Stubble, and cast them into the burning Lake. 
33 



























Then said the Interpreter to Christian, Hast thou considered all 
these things} 

Chr. Yes, and they put me in hope and fear* 

Inter. Well, keep all things so in thy mind, that they may be as a 
Goad in thy sides, to prick thee forward in the way thou must go. 
Then Christian began to gird up his loins, and to address himself to 
his Journey. Then said the Interpreter, The Comforter be always 
with thee good Christian, to guide thee in the way that leads to the 
City. 

So Christian went on his way, saying. 

Here have I seen things rare and profitable; 

Things pleasant, dreadful; things to make me stable 
In what I have began to take in hand; 

Then let me think on them, and understand 
Wherefore they shewed me was, and let me be 
Thankful, O good Interpreter, to thee* 

Now I saw in my Dream, that the highway up which Christian 
was to go, was fenced on either side with a Wall, and that Wall 
is called Salvation* Up this way therefore did burdened Christian 
run, but not without great difficulty, because of the load on his back. 

He ran thus till he came at a place somewhat ascending; and upon 
that place stood a Cross, and a little below in the bottom, a Sepulchre. 
So I saw in my Dream, that just as Christian came up with the Cross, 
his burden loosed from off his Shoulders, and fell from off his back, 
and began to tumble; and so continued to do, till it came to the mouth 
of the Sepulchre, where it fell in, and I saw it no more. 

Then was Christian glad and lightsome, and said with a merry 
heart. He hath given me rest, by his sorrow; and life, by his death* 
Then he stood still a while, to look and wonder; for it was very sur¬ 
prising to him, that the sight of the Cross should thus ease him of his 
burden. He looked therefore, and looked again, even till the springs 
that were in his head sent the waters down his cheeks. Now as he 
stood looking and weeping, behold three shining ones came to him, 
and saluted him, with Peace be to thee; so the first said to him. Thy 
sins be forgiven* The second, stript him of his Rags, and cloathed 
him with change of Raiment. The third also set a mark in his fore- 

































Behold three shining: ones came to him^ and saluted him^ with Peace be to thee. 





















































































head, and gave him a Roll with a Seal upon it, which he bid him look 
on as he ran, and that he should give it in at the Coelestial Gate; so 
they went their way. Then Christian gave three leaps for joy, and 
went on singing. 

Thus far did I come loaden with my sin ; 
cN^r could ought ease the grief that I was in, 

Till I came hither: What a place is this ! 
cMust here be the beginning of my bliss ? 
cMust here the burden fall from off my back ? 
cMust here the strings that bound it to me crack } 

Blest Cross I blest Sepulchre ! blest rather be 
The cMan that there was put to shame for me, 

I saw then in my Dream that he went on thus, even until he 
came at a bottom, where he saw, a little out of the way, three 
Men fast asleep with Fetters upon their heels. The name of the 
one was Simple, another Sloth, and the third Presumption, 

Christian then see¬ 
ing them lie in this 
case, went to them, 
if peradventure he 
might awake them. 
And cried. You are 
like them that sleep 
on the top of a Mast, 
for the dead Sea is 
under you, a Gulf 
that hath no bottom. 
Awake therefore and 
come away; be will¬ 
ing also, and I will 
help you off with your 
Irons. He also told 
them. If he that goeth 
about like a roaring 
Lion comes by, you 
will certainly become 























a prey to his teeth. With that they lookt upon him^ and began to reply 
in this sort: Simple said, / see no danger; Sloth said, Yet a little more 
sleep: and Presumption said. Every Fatt must stand upon his own 
bottom. And so they lay down to sleep again, and Christian went on 
his way. 

Yet was he troubled to think that men in that danger should so little 
esteem the kindness of him that so freely offered to help them; both 
by awakening of them, counseling of them, and proffering to help them 
off with their Irons. And as he was troubled thereabout, he espied 
two Men come tumbling over the Wall, on the left hand of the narrow 
way; and they made up apace to him. The name of the one was 
Formalist, and the name of the other Hypocrisy. So, as I said, they 
drew up unto him, who thus entered with them into discourse. 

Chr. Gentlemen, Whence came you, and whither do you go ? 

Form, and Hyp. We were born in the land of Vain-glory, and are 
going for praise to Mount Sion. 

Chr. Why came you not in at the Gate which standeth at the be¬ 
ginning of the way ? Know you not that it is written, Hhat he that 
cometh not in by the door, but climbeth up some other way, the same 
is a thief and a robber ? 

Form, and Hyp. They said. That to go to the Gate for entrance, 
was by all their Countrymen counted too far about; and that therefore 
their usual way was to make a short cut of it, and to climb over the 
wall as they had done. 

Chr. But will it not be counted a Trespass against the Lord of the 
City whither we are bound, thus to violate his revealed will ? 

Form, and Hyp. They told him. That as for that, he needed not 
to trouble his head thereabout: for what they did, they had custom 
for; and could produce, if need were,Testimony that would witness 
it, for more than a thousand years. 

Chr. But, said Christian, will your practice stand a Trial at 
Law? 

Form, and Hyp. They told him. That Custom, it being of so long 
a standing, as above a thousand years, would doubtless now be ad¬ 
mitted as a thing legal, by an Impartial Judge. And besides, said they, 
if we get into the way, what^s matter which way we get in ? If we 
are in, we are in: thou art but in the way, who, as we perceive, came 

37 













He espied two Men come tumbling over the Wall. 

in at the Gate; and we are also in the way, that came tumbling over 
the wall. Wherein now is thy condition better than ours ? 

Chr. I walk by the Rule of my Master, you walk by the rude 
working of your fancies. You are counted thieves already, by the 
Lord of the way; therefore I doubt you will not be found true men at 
the end of the way. You come in by yourselves without his direction, 
and shall go out by yourselves without his mercy. 

To this they made him but little answer; only they bid him look to 
himself. Then I saw that they went on every man in his way, with¬ 
out much conference one with another; save that these two men told 
Christian, That, as to Laws and Ordinances, they doubted not but 
they should as conscientiously do them as he. Therefore said they. 
We see not wherein thou differest from us, but by the Coat that is on 
thy back, which was, as we tro, given thee by some of thy Neighbors, 
to hide the shame of thy nakedness. 

Chr. By Laws and Ordinances, you will not be saved, since you 
came not in by the door. And as for this Coat that is on my back, it 
was given me by the Lord of the place whither I go; and that, as you 
say, to cover my nakedness with. And I take it as a token of his 
kindness to me, for I had nothing but rags before. And besides, thus 
I comfort myself as I go: Surely, think I, when I come to the Gate of 
the City, the Lord thereof will know me for good, since I have his Coat 
on my back; a Coat that he gave me freely in the day that he stript 




























































He fell from running: to g:oing:, and from g:oing: to clambering: upon his hands and his knees, 

because of the steepness of the place. 







































So the one took the way which is called Danger, which led him into 
a great Wood; and the other took directly up the way to Destruction, 
which led him into a wide field full of dark Mountains, where he 
stumbled and fell, and rose no more. 

I looked then after Christian, to see him go up the Hill, where I per¬ 
ceived he fell from running to going, and from going to clambering 
upon his hands and his knees, because of the steepness of the place. 
Now about the midway to the top of the Hill, was a pleasant Arbor, 
made by the Lord of the Hill, for the refreshing of weary Travellers. 
Thither therefore Christian got, where also he sat down to rest him. 
Then he pulled his Roll out of his bosom and read therein to his com¬ 
fort ; he also now began afresh to take a review of the Coat or Gar¬ 
ment that was given him as he stood by the Cross. Thus pleasing 
himself a while, he at last fell into a slumber, and thence into a fast 
sleep, which detained him 
in that place until it was 
almost night, and in his 
sleep his Roll fell out of 
his hand. Now as he 
was sleeping, there came 
one to him, and awaked 
him saying. Go to the 
Ant, thou sluggard, con¬ 
sider her ways and be 
wise* And with that 
Christian suddenly started 
up, and sped him on his 
way, and went apace till 
he came to the top of the 
Hill. 

Now when he was got 
up to the top of the Hill, 
there came two men run¬ 
ning against him amain; 
the name of the one was 
Timorous, and the name 
of the other distrust, to 




The name of the one was Timorous, and the name of the 
other Mistrust. 

41 




















































He at last fell into a slumber, and thence into a fast sleep, which detained him in that place until it was almost night, 

and in his sleep his Roll fell out of his hand. 























































































































He espied his Roll; the which he with trembling and haste 
catch'd up, and put it into his bosom. 


in the midst of difficulty! 
that I should so indulge 
the flesh, as to use that 
rest for ease to my flesh, 
which the Lord of the 
Hill hath erected only 
for the relief of the spir¬ 
its of Pilgrims! How 
many steps have I took 
in vain! (Thus it hap¬ 
pened to Israel for their 
sin, they were sent back 
again by the way of the 
Red-Sea.) and I am 
made to tread those 
steps with sorrow, 
which I might ^ have 
trod with delight, had 
it not been for this sin¬ 


ful sleep. How far might I have been on my way by this time! 
I am made to tread those steps thrice over, which I needed not 
to have trod but once: Yea now also I am like to be benighted, 
for the day is almost spent. O that I had not slept! Now by 
this time he was come to the cArbor again, where for awhile he sat 
down and wept, but at last (as Christian would have it) looking sor¬ 
rowfully down under the Settle, there he espied his Roll; the which 
he with trembling and haste catchM up, and put it into his bosom. 
But who can tell how joyful this Man was, when he had gotten his 
Roll again! For this Roll was the assurance of his life and acceptance 
at the desired Haven. Therefore he laid it up in his bosom, gave 
thanks to God for directing his eye to the place where it lay, and with 
Joy and tears betook himself again to his Journey. But Oh how nim¬ 
bly now did he go up the rest of the Hill! Yet before he got up, the 
Sun went down upon Christian; and this made him again recall the 
vanity of his sleeping to his remembrance, and thus he again began to 
condole with himself: Oh thou sinful sleep ! how for thy sake am I 
like to be benighted in my Journey ! I must walk without the Sum 

44 










































darkness must cover the path of my feett and I must hear the noise of 
doleful CreatureSf because of my sinful sleep ! Now also he remem¬ 
bered the story that Mistrust and Timorous told him of, how they were 
frighted with the sight of the Lions. Then said Christian to himself 
again, These Beasts range in the night for their prey, and if they 
should meet with me in the dark, how should I shift them ? how should 
I escape being by them torn in pieces ?. Thus he went on his way, but 
while he was thus bewailing his unhappy miscarriage, he lift up his 
eyes, and behold there was a very stately Palace before him, the name 
of which was BeautifuU and it stood just by the Highway side. 

So I saw in my Dream, that he made haste and went forward, that 
if possible he might get Lodging there; now before he had gone far, 
he entered into a very narrow passage, which was about a furlong off 
of the Porter^s Lodge, and looking very narrowly before him as he 
went, he espied two Lions in the way. Now, thought he, I see the 
dangers that Mistrust and Timorous were driven back by. (The Lions 
were chained, but he saw not the Chains.) Then he was afraid, and 
thought also himself to go back after them, for he thought nothing but 

death was before him._ 

But the Porter at the 
Lodge, whose Name is 
WatchfuU perceiving 
that Christian made a 
halt, as if he would go 
back, cried unto him, 
saying. Is thy strength 
so small? fear not the 
Lions, for they are 
chained : and are placed 
there for trial of faith 







































He espied two Lions in the way* 













































































































went on, trembling for fear of the Lions; but taking good heed to the 
directions of the Porter ; he heard them roar, but they did him no harm. 
Then he clapt his hands, and went on, till he came and stood before the 
Gate where the Porter was. Then said Christian to the Porter, Sir^ 
What house is this ? and may I lodge here to night ? The Porter an¬ 
swered, This House was built by the Lord of the Hill, and he built it 
for the relief and security of Pilgrims. The Porter also asked whence 
he was, and whither he was going ? 

Chr. I am come from the City of Destruction, and am going to 
Mount Zion, but because the Sun is now set, I desire, if I may, to lodge 
here to night. 

PoR. What is your name ? 

Chr. My name is now Christian ; but my name at the first was 
Graceless: I came of the Race of Japhet, whom God will perswade to 
dwell in the Tents of Shem. 

PoR. But how doth it happen that you come so late ? the Sun is set, 

Chr. I had been here sooner, but that, wretched man that I am! I 
slept in the Arbor that stands on the Hill side; nay, I had notwithstand¬ 
ing that, been here much sooner, but that in my sleep I lost my evi¬ 
dence, and came without it to the brow of the Hill; and then feeling 
for it, and finding it not, I was forced with sorrow of heart to go back 
to the place where I slept my sleep, where I found it, and now I am 
come. 

PoR. Well, I will call out one of the Virgins of this place, who will, 
if she likes your talk, bring you in to the rest of the Family, according 
to the Rules of the House. So Watchful the Porter rang a Bell, at the 
sound of which came out at the door of the House a grave and beau¬ 
tiful Damsel, named Discretion, and asked why she was called. 

The Porter answered. This Man is in a Journey from the City of 
Destruction to Mount Zion, but being weary, and benighted, he asked 
me if he might lodge here to night; so I told him I would call for thee, 
who, after discourse had with him, mayest do as seemeth thee good, 
even according to the Law of the House. 

Then she asked him whence he was, and whither he was going, 
and he told her. She asked him also, how he got into the way, and 
he told her. Then she asked him. What he had seen, and met 
with in the way, and he told her; and last, she asked his name, so he 

47 



























This Man is in a Journey from the City of Destruction to Mount Zion. 







































































































































































































r.vvi:: I 






said. It is Christian ; and I have so much the more a desire to lodge 
here tonight, because, by what I perceive, this place was built by the 
Lord of the Hill, for the relief and security of Pilgrims. So she smiled, 
but the water stood in her eyes: and after a little pause, she said, I will 
call forth two or three more of the Family. So she ran to the door, and 
called out Prudence, Piety, and Charity, who after a little more dis¬ 
course with him, had him in to the Family; and many of them meet¬ 
ing him at the threshold of the house, said. Come in thou blessed of the 
Lord; this House was built by the Lord of the Hill, on purpose to 
entertain such Pilgrims in. Then he bowed his head, and followed 
them into the House. So when he was come in, and set down, they 
gave him something to drink; and consented together that until supper 
was ready, some of them should have some particular discourse with 
Christian, for the best improvement of time: and they appointed Piety, 
and Prudence, and Charity, to discourse with him; and thus they began. 

Pi. Come good Christian, since l^e have been so loving to you, to 
receive you into our House this night; let us, if perhaps we may better 
ourselves thereby, talk with you of all things that have happened to 
you in your Pilgrimage, 

Chr. With a very good will, and I am glad that you are so well 
disposed. 

Pi. What moved you at first to betake yourself to a Pilgrims life ? 

Chr. I was 
driven out of my 
Native Country, 
by a dreadful 
sound that was in 
mine ears, to wit. 

That unavoidable 
destruction did at¬ 
tend me, if I abode 
in that place where 
I was. 

Pi. Butholipdid 
it happen that you 

came out of your down, they gave him something 

Country this way? to drink. 





7 




























V 


XAVx 


Chr. It was as God would have it, for when I was under the fears 
of destruction, I did not know whither to go; but by chance there 
came a man, even to me, (as I was trembling and weeping) whose 
name is Evangelist, and he directed me to the Wicket-Gate, which else 
I should never have found; and so set me into the way that hath led 
me directly to this House. 

Pi. But did you not come by the House of the Interpreter ? 

Chr. Yes, and did see such things there, the remembrance of which 
will stick by me as long as I live; specially three things, to wit, How 
Christ, in despite of Satan, maintains his work of Grace in the heart; 
how the Man had sinned himself quite out of hopes of Gods mercy; 
and also the Dream of him that thought in his sleep the day of Judg¬ 
ment was come. 

Pi. Why ? Did you hear him tell his Dream ? 

Chr. Yes, and a dreadful one it was. I thought it made my heart 
ake as he was telling of it; but yet I am glad I heard it. 

Pi. Was that all that you saw at the House of the Interpreter ? 

Chr. No, he took me and had me where he shewed me a stately 
Palace, and how the People were clad in Gold that were in it; and 
how there came a venturous Man, and cut his way through the armed 
men that stood in the door to keep him out; and how he was bid to 
come in, and win eternal Glory. Methought those things did ravish 
my heart; I would have stayed at that good Mans house a twelve- 
month, but that I knew I had further to go. 

Pi. And what saw you else in the way ? 

Chr. Saw! Why I went but a little further, and I saw one, as 
I thought in my mind, hang bleeding upon the Tree; and the very 
sight of him made my burden fall off my back (for I groaned under a 
heavy burden) but then it fell down from off me. ^Twas a strange 
thing to me, for I never saw such a thing before: yea, and while I 
stood looking up, (for then I could not forbear looking) three shining 
ones came to me: one of them testified that my sins were forgiven 
me; another stript me of my rags, and gave me this broidered Coat 
which you sec; and the third set the mark which you see, in my 
forehead, and gave me this sealed Roll (and with that he plucked it 
out of his bosom.) 

Pi. But you saw more than this, did you not ? 


\ 































Chr. The things that I have told you were the best: yet some 
other matters I saw, as namely I saw three Men, Simple, Sloth, and 
Presumption, lie asleep a little out of the way as I came, with Irons 
upon their heels; but do you think I could awake them? I also saw 
Formalist and Hypocrisy come tumbling over the wall, to go, as they 
pretended, to Sion, but they were quickly lost; even as I myself did tell 
them, but they would not believe. But, above all, I found it hard work 
to get up this Hill, and as hard to come by the Lions mouth; and truly 
if it had not been for the good Man, the Porter that stands at the Gate, 
I do not know but that, after all, I might have gone back again: but 
now I thank God I am here, and I thank you for receiving of me. 

Then Prudence thought good to ask him a few questions, and de¬ 
sired his answer to them. 

Pru. Do you not think sometimes of the Country from whence you 
come? 

Chr. Yes, but with much shame and detestation; Truly, if I had 
been mindful of that Country from whence I came out, I might have 
had opportunity to have returned, but noJP I desire a better Country, 
that is, an Heavenly* 

Pru. Do you not yet bear away with you some of the things that 
then you were conversant withal ? 

Chr. Yes, but greatly against my will; especially my inward and 
carnal cogitations; with which all my Country-men, as well as my¬ 
self, were delighted; but now all those things are my grief: and might 
I but chuse mine own things, I would chuse never to think of those 
things more; but when I would be doing of that which is best, that 
which is worst is with me. 

Pru. Do you not find sometimes, as if those things were van¬ 
quished, which at other times are your perplexity ? 

Chr. Yes, but that is but seldom; but they are to me golden hours, 
in which such things happen to me. 

Pru. Can you remember by what means you find your annoyances 
at times, as if they were vanquished ? 

Chr. Yes, when I think what I saw at the Cross, that will do it; 
and when I look upon my broidered Coat, that will do it; also when I 
look into the Roll that I carry in my bosom, that will do it; and when 
my thoughts wax warm about whither I am going, that will do it. 




























Pru. And what is it that makes you so desirous to go to Mount 
Zion ? 

Chr. Why, there I hope to see him alive, that did hang dead on 
the Cross; and there I hope to be rid of all those things, that to this 
day are in me an annoyance to me; there they say there is no death, 
and there I shall dwell with such Company as I like best. For to tell 
you truth, I love him, because I was by him eased of my burden, and 
I am weary of my inward sickness; I would fain be where I shall die 
no more, and with the Company that shall continually cry Holy, 
Holy, Holy. 

Then said Charity to Christian, Ha'be you a family? are you a mar¬ 
ried man ? 

Chr. I have a Wife and four small Children. 

Cha. And why did you not bring them along with you ? 

Chr. Then Christian wept, and said. Oh how willingly would I 
have done it, but they were all of them utterly averse to my going on 
Pilgrimage. 

Cha. But you should have talked to them, and have endeavoured 
to have shdi^en them the danger of being behind. 

Chr. So I did, and told them also what God had shewed to me of 
the destruction of our City; but I seemed to them as one that mocked, 
and they believed me not. 

Cha. And did you pray to God that he lP0ould bless your counsel to 
them ? 

Chr. Yes, and that with much affection; for you must think that 
my Wife and poor Children were very dear unto me. 

Cha. But did you tell them of your own sorroli?, and fear of de¬ 
struction ? for I suppose that destruction was visible enough to you ? 

Chr. Yes, over, and over, and over. They might also see my 
fears in my countenance, in my tears, and also in my trembling under 
the apprehension of the Judgment that did hang over our heads; but 
all was not sufficient to prevail with them to come with me. 

Cha. But what could they say for themselves why they came not ? 

Chr. Why, my Wife was afraid of losing this World; and my 
Children were given to the foolish delights of youth: so what by one 
thing, and what by another, they left me to wander in this manner alone. 

Cha. But did you not JPith your vain life, damp all that you by 
words used by way of perswasion to bring them away Jpith you ? 























The name of the Chamber was Pea.ee. 


Chr. Indeed I 
cannot commend 
my life; for I am 
conscious to my¬ 
self of many fail¬ 
ings : therein, I 
know also that a 
man by his con¬ 
versation, may 
soon overthrow 
what by argument 
or perswasion he 
doth labour to 
fasten upon others 

for their good: Yet, this I can say, I was very wary of giving them 
occasion, by any unseemly action, to make them averse to going on Pil¬ 
grimage. Yea, for this very thing, they would tell me I was too pre¬ 
cise, and that I denied myself of sins (for their sakes) in which they saw 
no evil. Nay, I think I may say, that, if what they saw in me did 
hinder them, it was my great tenderness in sinning against God, or of 
doing any wrong to my Neighbor. 

Cha. Indeedf Cain hated his Brother^ because his own y^orks were 
^iU 3.nd his Brother*s righteous; and if thy Wife and Children ha'be 
been offended with thee for this, they thereby shew themseh>es to be 
implacable to good; and thou hast delivered thy soul from their blood. 

Now I saw in my Dream, that thus they sat talking together until 
supper was ready. So when they had made ready, they sat down to 
meat; Now the Table was furnished with fat things, and with Wine 
that was well refined; and all their talk at the Table, was about the 
Lord of the Hill: As namely, about what HE had done, and where¬ 
fore HE did what HE did, and why HE had builded that House: and 
by what they said, I perceived that HE had been a great Warrior, and 
had fought with and slain him that had the power of Death, but not 
without great danger to himself, which made me love him the more. 

For, as they said, and as I believe (said Christian) he did it with the 
loss of much blood; but that which put Glory of Grace into all he did, 
was, that he did it of pure love to his Country. And besides, there 
were some of them of the Household that said they had seen and 





































spoke with him since he did die on the Cross; and they have attested, 
that they had it from his own lips, that he is such a lover of poor Pil¬ 
grims, that the like is not to be found from the East to the West. 

They moreover gave an instance of what they affirmed, and that 
was. He had stript himself of his glory that he might do this for the 
Poor; and that they heard him say and affirm. That he would not 
dwell in the Mountain of Zion alone. They said moreover. That he 
had made many Pilgrims Princes, though by nature they were Beg¬ 
gars born, and their original had been the Dunghil. 

Thus they discoursed together till late at night, and after they had 
committed themselves to their Lord for Protection, they betook them¬ 
selves to rest. The Pilgrim they laid in a large upper Chamber, 
whose window opened towards the Sunrising; the name of the Cham¬ 
ber was Peace, where he slept till break of day; and then he awoke 
and sang. 

Where am I now ! is this the lo'be and care 
Of Jesus for the men that Pilgrims are I 
Thus to provide ! That I should be forgi'ben ! 

And dwell already the next door to Heaven ! 

So in the Morning they all got up, and after some more discourse, 
they told him that he should not depart, till they had shewed him the 
Rarities of that place. And first they had him into the Study, where 
they shewed him Records of the greatest Antiquity; in which, as I 
remember my Dream, they shewed him first the Pedigree of the Lord 
of the Hill, that he was the Son of the Ancient of Days, and came by 
an eternal Generation. Here also was more fully recorded the Acts 
that he had done, and the names of many hundreds that he had taken 
into his service; and how he had placed them in such Habitations that 
could neither by length of Days, nor decays of Nature, be dissolved. 

Then they read to him some of the worthy Acts that some of his 
Servants had done. As how they had subdued Kingdoms, wrought 
Righteousness, obtained Promises, stopped the mouths of Lions, 
quenched the violence of Fire, escaped the edge of the Sword; out 
of weakness were made strong, waxed valiant in fight, and turned 
to flight the Armies of the Aliens, 

Then they read again in another part of the Records of the House, 










Then they read to him some of the worthy Acts that some of his Servants had done 





















































































































































































































































































































































































































































































Vi 


where it was shewed how willing their Lord was to receive into his 
favour any, even any, though they in time past had offered great 
affronts to his Person and proceedings. Here also were several other 
Histories of many other famous things, of all which Christian had 
a view. As of things both Ancient and Modern; together with 
Prophecies and Predictions of things that have their certain accom¬ 
plishment, both to the dread and amazement of enemies, and the com¬ 
fort and solace of Pilgrims. 

The next day they took him and had him into the Armory; where 
they shewed him all manner of Furniture, which their Lord had pro¬ 
vided for Pilgrims, as Sword, Shield, Helmet, Breast plate. All Prayer, 
and Shoes that would not wear out. And there was here enough 
of this to harness out as many men for the service of their Lord, 
as there be Stars in the Heaven for multitude. 

They also shewed him some of the Engines with which some of 
his Servants had done wonderful things. They shewed him Moses's 
Rod, the Hammer and Nail with which Jael slew Sisera, the Pitchers, 
Trumpets, and Lamps too, with which Gideon put to flight the 
Armies of Midian* Then they shewed him the Ox^s goad wherewith 
Shangar slew six hundred men. They shewed him also the Jaw 
bone with which Samson did such mighty feats; they shewed him 
moreover the Sling and Stone with which David slew GoUah of Gath: 
and the Sword also with which their Lord will kill the Man of Sin, in 
the day that he shall rise up to the prey. They shewed him besides 
many excellent things, with which Christian was much delighted. 
This done, they went to their rest again. 

Then I saw in my Dream, that on the morrow he got up to go for¬ 
wards, but they desired him to stay till the next day also, and then 
said they, we will, (if the day be clear,) shew you the delectable 
Mountains, which they said, would yet further add to his comfort, 
because they were nearer the desired Haven than the place where 
at present he was. So he consented and staid. When the Morning 
was up they had him to the top of the House, and bid him look South, 
so he did; and behold at a great distance he saw a most pleasant 
Mountainous Country, beautified with Woods, Vineyards, Fruits of all 
sorts; Flowers also, with Springs and Fountains, very delectable to be¬ 
hold. Then he asked the name of the Country, they said it was Immanuels 


































Land; and it is as com¬ 
mon, said they, as this Hill 
is, to and for all the Pil¬ 
grims* And when thou 
comest there, from thence, 
said they, thou mayest see 
to the Gate of the Coslestial 
City, as the Shepherds that 
live there will make appear. 

Now he bethought him¬ 
self of setting forward, and 
they were willing he should: 
but first, said they, let us go 
again into the Armory. So 
they did; and when he came 
there, they harnessed him 
from head to foot with what 
was of proof, lest perhaps he 
should meet with assaults 
in the way. He being there¬ 
fore thus accoutred walketh 
out with his friends to the 
Gate, and there he asked 
the Porter if he saw any 
Pilgrims pass by. Then the 
Porter answered. Yes. 

Chr. Pray did you know 
him ? said he. 

PoR. I asked his name, and he told me it was FaithfaL 

Chr. O, said Christiant I know him, he is my Townsman, my 
near Neighbor, he comes from the place where I was born: how far 
do you think he may be before ? 

PoR. He is got by this time below the Hill. 

Chr. Well, said Christian, good Porter, the Lord be with thee, and 
add to all thy blessings much increase, for the kindness that thou hast 
shewed to me. 

Then he began to go forward, but Discretion, Piety, Charity, and 


They had him to the top of the House, and bid him look 
Sooth, so he did ; and behold at a great distance he saw a 
most pleasant Mountainous Country. 


8 













































They harnessed him from head to foot with what was of proof, lest perhaps he should meet with assaults in the way. 





























































































































































































































































































Prudence^ would accompany him down to the foot of the Hill. So 
they went on together, reiterating their former discourses till they 
came to go down the Hill. Then said Christiarif As it was difficult 
coming up, so (so far as I can see) it is dangerous going down. Yes, 
said Prudence, so it is; for it is an hard matter for a man to go down 
into the valley of Humiliation, as thou art now, and to catch no slip 
by the way; therefore, said they, are we come out to accompany thee 
down the Hill. So he began to go down, but very warily, yet he 
caught a slip or too. 

Then I saw in my Dream, that these good Companions, (when 
Christian was gone down to the bottom of the Hill,) gave him a loaf 
of Bread, a bottle of Wine, and a cluster of Raisins; and then he went 
on his way. 

But now in this Valley of Humiliation poor Christian was hard put 
to it, for he had gone but a little way before he espied a foul Fiend 
coming over the field to meet him; his name is Apollyom Then did 
Christian begin to be afraid, and to cast in his mind whether to go 
back, or to stand his ground. But he considered again, that he had no 
Armor for his back, and therefore thought that to turn the back to 
him might give him greater advantage with ease to pierce him with 
his Darts; therefore he resolved to venture, and stand his ground. 
For thought he, had I no more in mine eye than the saving of my life, 
^twould be the best way to stand. 

So he went on, and cApollyon met him. Now the Monster was 
hideous to behold, he was cloathed with scales like a Fish (and 
they are his pride) he had Wings like a Dragon, feet like a Bear, 
and out of his belly came Fire and Smoke, and his mouth was as 
the mouth of a Lion. When he was come up to Christian, he be¬ 
held him with a disdainful countenance, and thus began to question 
with him. 

Apol. Whence come you, and 'tPhither are you bound? 

Chr. I am come from the City of Destruction, which is the place of 
all evil, and am going to the City of Zion. 

Apol. By this I perceive thou art one of my Subjects, for all that 
Country is mine; and I am the Prince and God of it. How is it then 
that thou hast ran away from thy King ? Were it not that I hope 





































lg)c 



thou mayesf do me more serljicet I would strike thee now at one blow 
to the ground. 

Chr. I was born indeed in your Dominions, but your service was 
hard, and your wages such as a man could not live on, for the wages 
of Sin is death ; therefore when I was come to years, I did as other 
considerate persons do, look out if perhaps I might mend my self. 

Apol. ^here is no Prince that iPoill thus lightly lose his Subjects^ 
neither will I as yet lose thee. But since thou complainest of thy 
service and wages be content to go back ; what our Country will 
afford, I do here promise to give thee. 

Chr. But I have let myself to another, even to the King of Princes, 
and how can I with fairness go back with thee ? 

Apol. Thou hast done in this, according to the Pro'l>erb, changed a 
bad for a worse: but it is ordinary for those that ha'be professed 
themselves his Ser'bants, after a while to gibe him the slip, and return 
again to me: do thou so to, and all shall be well. 

Chr. I have given him my faith, and sworn my Allegiance to him; 
how then can I go back from this, and not be hanged as a Traitor ? 

Apol. Thou didst the same to me, and yet I am willing to pass 
by all, if now thou "tPilt yet turn again, and go back. 

Chr. What I promised thee was in my nonage; and besides, I 
count that the Prince under whose Banner now I stand, is able to 
absolve me; yea, and to pardon also what I did as to my compliance 
with thee : and besides, (O thou destroying Apollyon) to speak truth, 
I like his Service, his Wages,^ his Servants, his Government, his Com¬ 
pany, and Country better than thine: and therefore leave off to per- 
swade me further, I am his Servant, and I will follow him. 

Apol. Consider again when thou art in cool blood, "bbhat thou art 
tike to meet with in the way that thou goest. Thou knowest that for 
the most part, his Servants come to an ill end, because they are trans¬ 
gressors against me, and my ways. How many of them have been 
put to shameful deaths! and besides, thou countest his service better 
than mine, whereas he never came yet from the place where he is, to 
deliver any that served him out of our hands; but as for me, how 
many times, as all the World very well knows, have I delivered, 
either by power or fraud, those that have faithfully served me, from 
him and his, though taken by them, and so I will deliver thee. 

Chr. His forbearing at present to deliver them, is on purpose to try 


































their love, whether they will cleave to him to the end: and as for the 
ill end thou sayest they come to, that is most glorious in their account. 
For for present deliverance, they do not much expect it; for they stay 
for their Glory, and then they shall have it, when their Prince comes 
in his, and the Glory of the Angels. 

Apol. ^hou hast already been unfaithful in thy service to him, and 
how doest thou think to receive wages of him ? 

Chr. Wherein, O Apollyon, have I been unfaithful to him ? 

Apol. Thou didst faint at first setting out, when thou wast almost 
choked in the Gulf of Dispond; thou didst attempt wrong ways to be 
rid of thy burden, whereas thou shouldest have stayed till thy Prince 
had taken it off: thou didst sinfully sleep and lose thy choice thing: 
thou wast also almost perswaded to go back, at the sight of the Lions; 
and when thou talkest of thy Journey, and of what thou hast heard, 
and seen, thou art inwardly desirous of J^ain-glory in all that thou 
sayest or doest. 

Chr. All this is true, and much more, which thou hast left out; 
but the Prince whom I serve and honour, is merciful, and ready to 
forgive: but besides, these infirmities possessed me in thy Country, 
for there I suckt them in, and I have groaned under them, been sorry 
for them, and have obtained pardon of my Prince. 

Apol. Then Apollyon broke out into a grievous rage, saying, / am 
an Enemy to this Prince: I hate his Person, his LzOpvs, and People: 1 
am come out on purpose to "Withstand thee. 

Chr. Apollyon beware what you do, for I am in the King^s High¬ 
way, the way of Holiness, therefore take heed to yourself. 

Apol. Then Apollyon straddled quite over the whole breadth of the 
way, and said, I am void of fear in this matter, prepare thyself to die, 
for I swear by my Infernal Den, that thou shalt go no further, here 
will I spill thy soul; and with that, he threw a flaming Dart at his 

breast, but Christian had a Shield in his hand, with which he caught 

it, and so prevented the danger of that. Then did Christian draw, for 
he saw ^twas time to bestir him; and Apollyon as fast made at him, 
throwing Darts as thick as Hail; by the which, notwithstanding all 
that Christian could do to avoid it, Apollyon wounded him in his 

head, his hand and foot; this made Christian give a little back: 

(Apollyon therefore followed his work amain, and Christian again 
took courage, and resisted as manfully as he could. This sore corn¬ 
el 





























bat lasted for above half a day, even till Christian was almost quite 
spent. For you must know that Christian by reason of his wounds, 
must needs grow weaker and weaker. 

Then Apollyon espying his opportunity, began to gather up close 
to Christian, and wrestling with him, gave him a dreadful fall; and 
with that, Christian's Sword flew out of his hand. Then said 
Apollyon, I am sure of thee now; and with that, he had almost 
prest him to death, so that Christian began to despair of life. But 
as God would have it, while Apollyon was fetching of his last blow, 
thereby to make a full end of this good Man, Christian nimbly reached 
out his hand for his Sword, and caught it, saying. Rejoice not against 
me, O mine Enemy I when I fall, I shall arise; and with that, gave 
him a deadly thrust, which made him give back, as one that had re¬ 
ceived his mortal wound: Christian perceiving that, made at him 
again, saying. Nay, in all these things we are more than Conquerors, 
through him that loved us. And with that, Apollyon spread forth his 
Dragon^s wings, and sped him away, that Christian saw him no more. 

In this Combat no man can imagine, unless he had seen and heard 
as I did, what yelling, and hideous roaring Apollyon made all the time 
of the fight, he spake like a Dragon: and on the other side, what sighs 
and groans brast from Christian's heart. I never saw him all the 
while give so much as one pleasant look, till he perceived he had 
wounded Apollyon with his two edged Sword, then indeed he did 
smile, and look upward: but ^twas the dreadfullest sight that ever I 
saw. 

So when the Battle was over, Christian said, I will here give thanks 
to him that hath delivered me out of the mouth of the Lion; to him 
that did help me against c4pollyon: and so he did, saying. 

Great Beelzebub, the Captain of this Fiend, 

Design 'd my ruin ; therefore to this end 
He sent him harnest out, and he with rage 
That Hellish was, did fiercely me engage: 

But blessed Michael helped me, and I 
By dint of StPord, did quickly make him fly: 

Therefore to him let me give lasting praise. 

And thank and bless his holy name always. 





















Rejoice not agfainst me^ O mine Enemy! when I fall, I shall arise, 







































































Then there came to him an hand, with some of the leaves of the Tree of Life. 

Then there came to him an hand, with some of the leaves of the 
Tree of Life, the which Christian took, and applied to the wounds 
that he had received in the Battle, and was healed immediately. 
He also sat down in that place to eat Bread, and to drink of the 
Bottle that was given him a little before; so being refreshed, he 
addressed himself to his Journey, with his Sword drawn in his hand, 
for he said, I know not but some other Enemy may be at hand. 
But he met with no other affront from cApollyon, quite through this 
Valley. 

Now at the end of this Valley, was another, called the Valley of the 
Shadoiv of Death, and Christian must needs go through it, because 
the way to the Coelestial City lay through the midst of it. Now this 
Valley is a very solitary place. The Prophet Jeremiah thus describes 
it, c/1 Wilderness, a Land of Desarts, and of Pits, a Land of Drought, 
and of the shadow of death, a Land that no man (but a Christian) 
passeth through, and where no man dwelt* 

Now here Christian was worse put to it than in his fight with 
cApollyon, as by the sequel you shall see. 

I saw then in my Dream, that when Christian was got to the 



































Borders of the Shadow of Death, there met him two Men, Children 
of them that brought up an evil report of the good Land, making haste 
to go back: to whom Christian spake as follows, 

Chr. Whither are you going ? 

Men. They said. Back, back; and we would have you to do so 
too, if either life or peace is prized by you. 

Chr. Why ? whaCs the matter ? said Christian. 

Men. Matter! said they; we were going that way as you are 
going, and went as far as we durst; and indeed we were almost 
past coming back, for had we gone a little further, we had. not 
been here to bring the news 
to thee. 

Chr. Bat what have you 
met withf said Christian ? 

Men. Why we were almost 
in the Valley of the Shadow 
of Death, but that by good 
hap we looked before us, and 
saw the danger before we 
came to it. 

Chr. But what have you 
seem said Christian ? 

Men. Seen 1 why the Val¬ 
ley itself, which is as dark as 
pitch; we also saw there the 
Hobgoblins, Satyrs, and Drag¬ 
ons of the Pit: we heard also 
in that Valley a continual 
howling and yelling, as of a 
People under unutterable mis¬ 
ery, who there sat bound in 
affliction and Irons: and over 
that Valley hangs the dis¬ 
couraging Clouds of confu¬ 
sion; death also doth always They said. Back, back. 




9 


















































About the midst of this Valley, I perceived the mouth of Hell to be. 





























































company of Fiends coming forward to meet him^ he stopt, and began 
to muse what he had best to do. Sometimes he had half a thought to 
go back. Then again he thought he might be half way through the 
Valley; he remembred also how he had already vanquished many a 
danger: and that the danger of going back might be much more than 
for to go forward; so he resolved to go on. Yet the Fiends seemed 
to come nearer and nearer; but when they were come even almost at 
him^ he cried out with a most vehement voice, I will walk in the 
strength of the Lord God; so they gave back, and came no further. 

One thing I would not let slip, I took notice that now poor Christian 
was so confounded, that he did not know his own voice; and thus I 
perceived it. Just when he was come over against the mouth of the 



Yet the Fiends seemed to come nearer and nearer. 


burning Pit, one of the wicked ones 
got behind him, and stept up softly 
to him, and whisperingly suggested 
many grievous blasphemies to him, 
which he verily thought had pro¬ 
ceeded from his own mind. This 
put Christian more to it than any¬ 
thing that he met with before, even 
to think that he should now blas¬ 
pheme him that he loved so much 
before; yet could he have helped 
it, he would not have done it: but 
he had not the discretion neither 
to stop his ears, nor to know from 
whence those blasphemies came.‘ 
When Christian had travelled in 
this disconsolate condition some 
considerable time, he thought he 
heard the voice of a man, as going 
before him, saying. Though I walk 
through the valley of the shadow 
of deathf I will fear none ilf for 
thou art with me. 

Then was he glad, and that for 
these reasons: 























And by and by, the day broke; then said Christian, He hath turned the shadow of death 
into the morning. 

First, Because he gathered from thence that some who feared God 
were in this Valley as well as himself. 

Secondly, For that he perceived God was with them, though in that 
dark and dismal state; and why not, thought he, with me ? though by 
reason of the impediment that attends this place, I cannot perceive it. 

Thirdly, For that he hoped (could he overtake them) to have com¬ 
pany by and by. So he went on, and called to him that was before, 
but he knew not what to answer, for that he also thought himself to 
be alone. And by and by, the day broke: then said Chrtsttan, He 
hath turned the shadow of death into the morning. 

Now morning being come, he looked back, not of desire to return, 
but to see, by the light of the day, what hazards he had gone through 
in the dark. So he saw more perfectly the Ditch that was on the one 
hand, and the Quag that was on the other; also how narrow the way 
was which lay betwixt them both; also now he saw the Hobgoblins, 
and Satyrs, and Dragons of the Pit, but all afar off; for after break of 
day, they came not nigh; yet they were discovered to him, according 
to that which is written. He disco'bereth deep things out of darkness, 
and bringeth out to tight the shadow of death. 

Now was Christian much affected with his deliverance from all the 
dangers of his solitary way, which dangers, though he feared them 
more before, yet he saw them more clearly now, because the light of 
the day made them conspicuous to him. And about this time the Sun 
was rising, and this was another mercy to Christian: for you must 
























I espied a little before me a Cave, where two Giants, Pope and Pagan, dwelt 



















note, that though the first part^of the Valley of the Shadow of death 
was dangerous^ yet this second part which he was yet to go, was, if 
possible, far more dangerous: for from the place where he now stood, 
even to the end of the Valley, the way was all along set so full of 
Snares, Traps, Gins, and Nets here, and so full of Pits, Pitfalls, deep 
Holes and Shelvings down there, that had it now been dark, as it was 
when he came the first part of the way, had he had a thousand souls, 
they had in reason been cast away; but as I said, just now the Sun 
was rising* Then said he. His candle shineth on my headt and by his 
light I go through darkness. 

In this light therefore he came to the end of the Valley. Now I saw 
in my Dream, that at the end of this Valley lay blood, bones, ashes, 
and mangled bodies of men, even of Pilgrims that had gone this way for¬ 
merly : And while I was musing what should be the reason, I espied a 
little before me a Cave, where two Giants, Pope and Pagan^ dwelt in 
old time, by whose Power and Tyranny the Men whose bones, blood, 
ashes, &c. lay there, were cruelly put to death. But by this place 
Christian went without much danger, whereat I somewhat wondered; 
but I have learnt since, that Pagan has been dead many a day; and 
as for the other, though he be yet alive, he is by reason of age, and 
also of the many shrewd brushes that he met with in his younger days, 
grown so crazy, and stiff in his joints, that he can now do little more 
than sit in his Cavers mouth, grinning at Pilgrims as they go by, and 
biting his nails, because he cannot come at them. 

So I saw that Christian went on his way, yet at the sight of the old 
Mam that sat in the mouth of the Cave^ he could not tell what to think, 
specially because he spake to him, though he could not go after him; 
saying. You will never mendt till more of you be burned: but he held 
his peace, and set a good face on^t, and so went by, and catcht no hurt. 
Then sang Christiam 

O world of wonders ! (/ can say no less) 

That I should be preserv'd in that distress 
That I have met with here ! O blessed be 
Hhat hand that from it hath delivered me! 

Dangers in darkness, Devils, Hell, and Sin, 

Did compass me, while I this Vale was in : 


































h 




He suddenly stumbled and fell^ and could not rise again, until Faithful came up to help him. 

Yedf Snares, and Pits, and Traps, and Nets did lie 

My path about, that worthless silly I 

Might have been catch't, intangled, and cast down: 

But since I live, Jesus wear the Crown* 

Now as Christian went on his way, he came to a little ascent, which 
was cast up on purpose that Pilgrims might see before them: up there 
therefore Christian went, and looking forward he saw Faithful before 
him, upon his Journey. Then said Christian aloud. Ho, ho, So-ho; 
stay and I will be your Companion. At that Faithful looked behind 
him, to whom Christian cried again. Stay, stay, till I come up to you. 
But Faithful answered. No, I am upon my life, and the Avenger of 
Blood is behind me. At this Christian was somewhat moved, and 
putting to all his strength, he quickly got up with Faithful, and did 
also overrun him, so the last was first* Then did Christian vain- 
gloriously smile, because he had gotten the start of his Brother: but 
not taking good heed to his feet, he suddenly stumbled and fell, and 
could not rise again, until Faithful came up to help him. 

Then I saw in my Dream, they went very lovingly on together; 


12 






































and had sweet discourse of all things that had happened to them in 
their Pilgrimage; and thus Christian began. 

Chr. honoured and well beloved Brother Faithful^ I stm glad 
that 1 ha'be overtaken you ; and that God has so tempered our spirits, 
that we can walk as Companions in this so pleasant a path* 

Faith. I had thought dear friend, to have had your company quite 
from our Town, but you did get the start of me; wherefore I was 
forced to come thus much of the way alone. 

Chr, How long did you stay in the City of Destruction, before you 
set out after me on your Pilgrimage ? 

Faith. Till I could stay no longer; for there was great talk pres¬ 
ently after you was gone out, that our City would in short time with 
Fire from Heaven be burned down to the ground. 

Chr. What / Did your Neighbors talk so ? 

Faith. Yes, ^twas for a while in every body^s mouth. 

Chr. What, and did no more of them but you come out to escape 
the danger ? 

Faith. Though there was, as I said, a great talk thereabout, yet I 
do not think they did firmly believe it. For in the heat of the discourse, 
I heard some of them deridingly speak of you, and of your desperate 
Journey, (for so they call this your Pilgrimage) but I did believe, and 
do still, that the end of our City will be with Fire and Brimstone from 
above i and therefore I have made mine escape. 

Chr. Did you hear no talk of cNslghbor Pliable ? 

Faith. Yes Christian, I heard that he followed you till he came at 
the Slough of Dispond, where, as some said, he fell in; but he would 
not be known to have so done: but I am sure he was soundly bedab¬ 
bled with that kind of dirt. 

Chr. And what said the Neighbors to him ? 

Faith. He hath, since his going back, been had greatly in derision, 
and that among all sorts of People: some do mock and despise him, 
and scarce will any set him on work. He is now seven times worse 
than if he had never gone out of the City. 

Chr. But why should they be so set against him, since they also 
despise the way that he forsook ? 

Faith. O, they say. Hang him, he is a Turn-Coat, he was not 






10 























m 




I met with one whose name was Canton, that had like to have done me a mischief. 

true to his profession. I think God has stirred up even his Enemies 
to hiss at him^ and make him a Proverb^ because he hath forsaken 
the way. 

Chr. Had you no talk •with him before you came out ? 

Faith. I met him once in the Streets, but he leered away on the 
other side, as one ashamed of what he had done; so I spake not to 
him. 

Chr. Well, 3.t my first setting out, I had hopes of that Man ; but 
no'iP I fear he will perish in the overthrow of the City, for it is hap¬ 
pened to him, according to the true Proverb, The Dog is turned to his 
Vomit again, and the Sow that was washed to her wallowing in the 
mire* 

Faith. They are my fears of him too. But who can hinder that 
which will be ? 

Chr. Well Neighbor Faithful, said Christian, let us leave him; 
and talk of things that more immediately concern ourselves. Tell me 
now, JPhat you have met with in the way as you came; for I know 
you have met iPfaith some things, or else it may be writ for a wonder* 

Faith. I escaped the Slough that I perceive you fell into, and got 
















































up to the Gate without that danger; only I met with one whose name 
was Wanton, that had like to have done me a mischief. 

Chr. 'Twas well you escaped her Net; Joseph Jpas hard put to it 
by her, and he escaped her as you did, but it had like to ha'be cost him 
his life* But what did she do to you ? 

Faith. You cannot think (but that you know something) what a 
flattering tongue she had, she lay at me hard to turn aside with her, 
promising me all manner of content. 

Chr. Nay, she did not promise you the content of a good conscience. 

Faith. You know what I mean, all carnal and fleshly content. 

Chr. Thank God you have escaped her: The abhorred of the Lord 
shall fall into her Ditch, 

Faith. Nay, I know not whether I did wholly escape her, or no. 

Chr. Why, I tro you did not consent to her desires ? 

Faith. No, not to defile myself; for I remembered an old writing 
that I had seen, which saith. Her steps take hold of hell. So I shut 
mine eyes, because I would not be bewitched with her looks: then she 
railed on me, and I went my way. 

Chr. Did you meet with no other assault as you came ? 

Faith. When I came to the foot of the Hill called Difficulty, I met 
with a very aged Man, who asked me. What I was, and whither 
bound ? I told him. That I was a Pilgrim, going to the Ccelestial City. 
Then said the Old Man, Thou lookest like an honest fellow; Wilt 
thou be content to dwell with me, for the wages that I shall give thee ? 
Then I asked him his name, and where he dwelt ? He said his name 
was Adam the first, and I dwell in the Town of Deceit, I asked him 
then. What was his work ? and what the wages that he would give ? 
He told me. That his work was many delights ; and his wages, that I 
should he his Heir at last, I further asked him. What House he kept, 
and what other Servants he had ? So he told me. That his House JPas 
maintained "tPith all the dainties in the world, and that his Servants 
were those of his own begetting. Then I asked, if he had any chil¬ 
dren ? He said that he had but three Daughters, The lust of the flesh, 
the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life; and that I should marry 
them all, if I would. Then I asked, how long time he would have 
me live with him ? And he told me As long as he lived himself, 

Chr. Well, and what conclusion came the Old Man and you 
to, at last} 

75 
























Faith. Why, at first, I found myself somewhat inclinable to go with 
the Man, for I thought he spake very fair; But looking in his forehead as I 
talked with him, I saw there written. Put off the old cM.m with his deeds* 

Chr. And how then ? 

Faith. Then it came burning hot into my mind, whatever he said, 
and however he flattered, when he got me home to his House, he 
would sell me for a Slave. So I bid him forbear to talk, for I would 
not come near the door of his House. Then he reviled me, and told 
me that he would send such a one after me, that should make my 
way bitter to my Soul. So I turned to go away from him: but just 
as I turned myself to go thence, I felt him take hold of my flesh, and 
give me such a deadly twitch back, that I thought he had pullM part 
of me after himself. This made me cry, O wretched Man ! So I 
went on my way up the Hill. 

Now when I had got about half way up, I looked behind me, and 
saw one coming after me, swift as the wind; so he overtook me just 
about the place where the Settle stands. 

Chr. Just there^ said Christian, did I sit doJi>n to rest me; but, 
being overcome 't^ith sleep, I there lost this out of my bosom* 

Faith. But good Brother hear me out: So soon as the Man over¬ 
took me, he was but a word and a blow: for down he knockt me, and 
laid me for dead. But when I was a little come to myself again, I 
asked him wherefore he served me so ? he said. Because of my secret 
inclining to Adam the first; and with that, he strook me another 
deadly blow on the breast, and beat me down backward, so I lay at his 
foot as dead as before. So when I came to myself again, I cried him 
mercy; but he said, I know not how to show mercy, and with that 
knockt me down again. He had doubtless made an end of me, but 
that one came by, and bid him forbear. 

Chr. Who was that, that bid him forbear ? 

Faith. I did not know him at first, but as he went by, I perceived 
the holes in his hands, and his side; then I concluded that he was our 
Lord. So I went up the Hill. 

Chr. That Man that overtook you, was Moses. He spareth none, 
neither knoweth he how to shew mercy to those that transgress his Law* 






























Just as I turned myself to go thence, I felt him take hold of my flesh, and give me such a deadly 
twitch back, that I thought he had pull'd part of me after himself. 

Faith. I know it very well, it was not the first time that he has met 
with me. ^Twas he that came to me when I dwelt securely at home, 
and that told me. He would burn my House over my head if I staid there. 

Chr. But did not you see the House that stood there on the top of 
that Hillf on the side of ^hich Moses met you ? 

Faith. Yes, and the Lions too, before I came at it; but for the 
Lions, I think they were asleep, for it was about Noon; and because 
I had so much of the day before me, I passed by the Porter, and came 
down the Hill. 

Chr. He told me indeed that he saw you go by ; but I wish you had 
called at the House; for they would have shewed you so many Rarities, 
that you would scarce ha'be forgot them to the day of your death. But 
pray tell me. Did you meet nobody in the Valley of Humility ? 

Faith. Yes, I met with one Discontent, who would willingly have 
perswaded me to go back again with him: his reason was, for that 













































m 


the Valley was altogether without Honour. He told me moreover, 
that there to go was the way to disobey all my Friends, as Pride, 
cArrogancy, Self-Conceit, Worldly Glory, with others, who he knew, 
as he said, would be very much offended, if I made such a Fool of 
myself as to wade through this Valley. 

Chr. Well, and how did you answer him ? 

Faith. I told him. That although all these that he named might 
claim kindred of me, and that rightly, (for indeed they were my Rela¬ 
tions, according to the flesh) yet since I became a Pilgrim, they have 
disowned me, as I also have rejected them; and therefore they were 
to me now no more than if they had never been of my Lineage. I 
told him moreover, that as to this Valley, he had quite mis-represented 
the thing: for before Honour is Humility, and a haughty spirit before 
a fall. Therefore said I, I had rather go through this Valley to the 
Honour that was so accounted by the wisest, than chuse that which 
he esteemed most worth our affections. 

Chr. cMet you with nothing else in that Valley ? 

Faith. Yes, I met with Shame. But of all the Men that I met 
with in my Pilgrimage, he I think bears the wrong name: the other 
would be said nay, after a little argumentation, (and somewhat else) 
but this boldfaced Shame, would never have done. 

Chr. Why, JPhat did he say to you ? 

Faith. What! why he objected against Religion itself; he said it 
was a pitiful low sneaking business for a Man to mind Religion; he 
said that a tender conscience was an unmanly thing, and that for a 
Man to watch over his words and ways, so as to tye up himself from 
that hectoring liberty that the brave spirits of the times accustom them¬ 
selves unto, would make me the Ridicule of the times. He objected 
also, that but few of the Mighty, Rich, or Wise, were ever of my 
opinion; nor any of them, neither, before they were perswaded to be 
Fools, and to be of a voluntary fondness to venture the loss of all, for 
no body else knows what. He moreover objected the base and low 
estate and condition of those that were chiefly the Pilgrims of the times 
in which they lived: also their ignorance, and want of understanding 
in all natural Science. Yea, he did hold me to it at that rate also about 
a great many more things than here I relate; as, that it was a shame 
to sit whining and mourning under a Sermon, and a shame to come 



















































































































'mm 


sighing and groaning home. That it was a shame to ask my Neigh¬ 
bor forgiveness for petty faults, or to make restitution where I had 
taken from any. He said also that Religion made a man grow strange 
to the great, because of a few vices (which he called by finer names) 
and made him own and respect the base, because of the same Religious 
Fraternity. And is not this, said he, a shame ? 

Chr. (And what did you say to him ? 

Faith. Say! I could not tell what to say at the first. Yea, he put 
me so to it, that my blood came up in my face, even this Shame fetched 
it up, and had almost beat me quite off. But at last I began to con¬ 
sider, That that iPohich is highly esteemed among Men, is had in abom¬ 
ination with God. And I thought again. This Shame tells me what 
men are, but it tells me nothing what God, or the Word of God is. 
And I thought moreover, that at the day of doom, we shall not be 
doomed to death or life, according to the hectoring spirits of the world; 
but according to the Wisdom and Law of the Highest. Therefore 
thought I, what God says is best, is best, though all the Men in the 
world are against it. Seeing then, that God prefers his Religion, see¬ 
ing God prefers a tender Conscience, seeing they that make themselves 
Fools for the Kingdom of Heaven are wisest; and that the poor man 
that loveth Christ is richer than the greatest Man in the world that 
hates him; Shame depart, thou art an Enemy to my Salvation: shall 
I entertain thee against my Soveraign Lord ? How then shall I look 
him in the face at his coming ? Should I now be ashamed of his 
Ways and Servants, how can I expect the blessing ? But indeed this 
Shame was a bold Villain; I could scarce shake him out of my com¬ 
pany ; yea, he would be haunting of me, and continually whispering 
me in the ear, with some one or other of the infirmities that attend 
Religion: but at last I told him, ^Twas but in vain to attempt further 
in this business; for those things that he disdained, in those did I see 
most glory. And so at last I got past this importunate one. And 
when I had shaken him off then I began to sing 

The trials that those men do meet withal. 

That are obedient to the Heavenly call. 

Are manifold, and suited to the flesh. 

And come, and come, and come again afresh ; 

80 

































That ndY0f or sometime else, ^e by them may 
Be taken, overcome, and cast away* 

O let the Pilgrims, let the Pilgrims then. 

Be vigilant, and quit themselves like men, 

Chr. / am glad, my Brother, that thou didst withstand this Vil¬ 
lain so hra'bely ; for of all, as thou sayst, I think he has the wrong 
name: for he is so bold as to follow us in the Streets, and to attempt 
to put us to shame before all men ; that is, to make us ashamed of 
that which is good: but if he was not himself audacious, he would 
never attempt to do as he does, but let us still resist him : for notwith¬ 
standing all his Bravadoes, he promoteth the Fool, and none else. 
The Wise shall Inherit Glory said Solomon, but shame shall be the 
promotion of Fools, 

Faith. I think we must cry to him for help against shame, that 
would have us be valiant for Truth upon the Earth. 

Chr. You say true. But did you meet nobody else in that Valley ? 

Faith. No, not I, for I had Sunshine all the rest of the way, through 
that, and also through the Valley of the Shadow of Death. 

Chr. ' Twas well for you, I am sure it fared far otherwise "tpith 
me, I had for a long season, as soon almost as I entred into that 
Valley, a dreadful Combat with that foul Fiend cApollyon: yea, I 
thought verily he would have killed me; especially when he got me 
down, and crusht me under him, as if he would have crusht me to 
pieces. For as he threw me, my Sword flew out of my hand; nay 
he told me He was sure of me: but I cried to God, and he heard me, 
and deli'l^ered me out of all my troubles. Then I entered into the Val¬ 
ley of the Shadow of Death, and had no light for almost half the way 
through it. I thought I should have been killed there, over, and over. 
But at last day brake, and the Sun rose, and I went through that 
which was behind with far more ease and quiet. 

Moreover, I saw in my Dream, that as they went on. Faithful, as 
he chanced to look on one side, saw a Man whose name is Talkative, 
walking at a distance besides them, (for in this place, there was room 
enough for them all to walk). He was a tall cMan, and something 
more comely at a distance than at hand. To this Man Faithful 

addressed himself in this manner. 

81 


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Faith. All this is tmct and glad am I to hear these things from you. 

Talk. Alas! the want of this is the cause that so few understand 
the need of Faith, and the necessity of a work of Grace in their Soul, 
in order to eternal life; but ignorantly live in the works of the Law, 
by which a man can by no means obtain the Kingdom of Heaven. 

Faith. But by your leave^ Heavenly knowledge of these, is the gift 
of God; no man attaineth to them by human industry, or only by the 
talk of them. 

Talk. All this I know very veil, for a man can receive nothing 
except it be given him from Heaven; all is of Grace, not of works: I 
could give you an hundred Scriptures for the confirmation of this. 

Faith. Well, then, said Faithful, what is that one thing, that we 
shall at this time found our discourse upon ? 

Talk. What you will: I will talk of things Heavenly, or things 
Earthly; things Moral, or things Evangelical; things Sacred, or 
things Prophane; things past, or things to come; things foreign, or 
things at home; things more Essential, or things Circumstantial; 
provided that all be done to our profit. 

Faith. Now did Faithful begin to wonder; and stepping to Chris¬ 
tian, (for he walked all this while by himself,) he said to him, (but 
softly) What a Brave Companion have we got! Surely this man lPt)ill 
make a very excellent Pilgrim, 

Chr. At this Christian modestly smiled, and said. This man with 
whom you are so taken, will beguile with this tongue of his, twenty 
of them that know him not. 

Faith. Do you know him then ? 

Chr. Know him! Yes, better than he knows himself. 

Faith. Pray what is he ? 

Chr. His name is Talkative, he dwelleth in our Town; I wonder 
that you should be a stranger to him, only I consider that our Town 
is large. 

Faith. Whose son is he ? And whereabout doth he dwell} 

Chr. He is the son of one Saywell, he dwelt in Prating-row ; and 
he is known of all that are acquainted with him, by the name of 
Talkative in Prating-row: and notwithstanding his fine tongue, he is 
but a sorry fellow. 

Faith. Well, he seems to be a very pretty man, 

83 




































This man is for any company, and for any talk; as he talketh now with you, so will he talk when he is on the Ale-hench : and the 

more drink he hath in his crown, the more of these things he hath in his mouth. 



























































































































































































































































































































































































Chr. That is, to them that have not thorough acquaintance with 
him, for he is best abroad, near home he is ugly enough: your saying. 
That he is a pretty tnarif brings to my mind what I have observed in 
the work of the Painter, whose Pictures shew best at a distance; but 
very near, more unpleasing. 

Faith. But I am ready to think you do but jest^ because you 
smiled. 

Chr. God forbid that I should jest, (though I smiled) in this matter, 
or that I should accuse any falsely; I will give you a further discovery 
of him: This man is for any company, and for any talk ; as he talketh 
now with you, so will he talk when he is on the Ale-bench: and the more 
drink he hath in his crown, the more of these things he hath in his 
mouth. Religion hath no place in his heart, or house, or conversa¬ 
tion ; all he hath, lieth in his tongue, and his Religion is to make a 
noise theref}^ith. 

Faith. Say you so ! Than am I in this man greatly deceived. 

Chr. Deceived! you may be sure of it. Remember the Proverb, 
They say and do not; but the Kingdom of God is not in word, but in 
power. He talketh of Prayer, of Repentance, of Faith, and of the 
New Birth: but he knows but only to talk of them. I have been in 
his Family, and have observed him both at home and abroad; and I 
know what I say of him is the truth. His house is as empty of Re¬ 
ligion, as the white of an Egg is of sa'bour. There is there neither 
Prayer, nor sign of Repentance for sin: yea, the brute in his kind 
serves God far better than he. He is the very stain, reproach, 
and shame of Religion to all that know him; it can hardly have 
a good word in all that end of the Town where he dwells, through 
him. Thus say the common People that know him, A Saint 
abroad, and a Devil at home. His poor Family finds it so, he is 
such a churl, such a railer at, and so unreasonable with his Servants, 
that they neither know how to do for, or speak to him. Men that 
have any dealings with him, say ^tis better to deal with a Turk then 
with him, for fairer dealing they shall have at their hands. This 
Talkative, if it be possible, will go beyond them, defraud, beguile, 
and over-reach them. Besides, he brings up his Sons to follow his 
steps; and if he findeth in any of them a foolish timorousness (for so 
he calls the first appearance of a tender conscience) he calls them fools 

85 


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and blockheads; and by no means will employ them in much, or speak 
to their commendations before others. For my part I am of opinion, 
that he has by his wicked life caused many to stumble and fall; and 
will be, if God prevent not, the ruin of many more. 

Faith. Wellt my Brother, I am bound to betide you; not only 
because you say you know him, but also because like a Christian, you 
make your reports of men* For I cannot think that you speak these 
things of ill will, but because it is ^en so as you say* 

Chr. Had I known him no more than you, I might perhaps have 
thought of him as at the first you did. Yea, had he received this re¬ 
port at their hands only that are enemies to Religion, I should have 
thought it had been a slander: (a Lot that often falls from bad mens 
mouths upon good mens Names and Professions:) But all these 
things, yea and a great many more as bad, of my own knowledge I 
can prove him guilty of. Besides, good men are ashamed of him, they 
can neither call him Brother nor Friend; the very naming of him 
among them, makes them blush, if they know him. 

Faith. Well, I see that Saying and Doing are two things, and 
hereafter I shall better observe this distinction* 

Chr. They are fP)o things indeed, and are as diverse as are the 
Soul and the Body: for as the Body without the Soul, is but a dead 
Carcass; so. Saying, if it be alone, is but a dead Carcass also. The 
Soul of Religion is the practick part: Pure Religion and undefiled, be¬ 
fore God and the Father, is this. To visit the Fatherless and Widows 
in their affliction, and to keep himself unspotted from the World* 
This Talkative is not aware of, he thinks that hearing and saying 
will make a good Christian, and thus he deceiveth his own Soul. 
Hearing is but as the sowing of the Seed; talking is not sufficient to 
prove that fruit is indeed in the heart and life; and let us assure our¬ 
selves, that at the day of Doom men shall be judged according to their 
fruits. It will not be said then. Did you belie'l>e} but, were you 
Doers, or Talkers only ? and accordingly shall they be judged. The 
end of the World is compared to our Harvest, and you know men at 
Harvest regard nothing but Fruit. Not that anything can be accepted 
that is not of Faith; but I speak this to show you how insignificant 
the profession of Talkative will be at that day. 

































A Saint abroad, and a Devil at home. His poor Family finds it so, he is such a churl, such a railer at, and so unreasonable 

with his Servants, that they neither know how to do for, or speak to him. 























































































































































































































































































































































































































Faith. This brings to my mind that of Moses, by "iPohich he describ- 
eth the beast that is clean* He is such an one that parteth the Hoof, 
and cheweth the Cud: not that parteth the Hoof only, or that cheweth 
the Cud only* The Hare chdtPeth the Cud, but yet is unclean, because 
he parteth not the Hoof* And this truly resembleth Talkative; he 
cheweth the Cud, he seeketh knowledge, he cheweth upon the Word, 
but he di'bideth not the Hoof, he parteth not with the way of sinners ; 
but as the Hare, retaineth the foot of a Dog, or Bear, and therefore he 
is unclean* 

Chr. You have spoken, for ought I know, the true Gospel sense of 
those Texts, and I will add another thing. Paul calleth some men, yea 
and those great Talkers too, sounding Brass, and Tinkling Cymbals; 
that is, as he expounds them in another place. Things 't^ithout life, 
giving sound* Things without life, that is, without the true Faith and 
Grace of the Gospel; and consequently, things that shall never be 
placed in the Kingdom of Heaven among those that are the Chil¬ 
dren of life: Though their sound, by their talk, be as if it were the 
Tongue or voice of an Angel. 

Faith. Well, I was not so fond of his company at first, but I am 
as sick of it now* What shall we do to be rid of him ? 

Chr. Take my advice, and do as I bid you, and you shall find that 
he will soon be sick of your Company too, except God shall touch his 
heart and turn it. 

Faith. What would you ha’t>e me to do ? 

Chr. Why, go to him, and enter into some serious discourse about 
the polPoer of Religion: And ask him plainly (when he has approved 
of it, for that he will) whether this thing be set up in his Heart, House, 
or Conversation. 

Faith. Then Faithful stepped forward again, and said to Talkative: 
Come, ynhat chear ? holPn is it now ? 

Talk. Thank you. Well. I thought we should have had a great 
deal of Talk by this time. 

Faith. Well, if you will, lPt>e will fall to it nolgp; and since you 
left it with me to state the question, let it be this: How doth the 
saving grace of God discover itself, when it is in the heart of man ? 

Talk. I perceive then that our talk must be about the power of 


R) 



















e(\ 


(d 


things; Well, ^tis a very good question, and I shall be willing to 
answer you. And take my answer in brief thus. First, Where the 
Grace of God is in the heart, it causeth there a great outcry against 
sin* Secondly,- 

Faith. Nay hold, let us consider of one at once . I think you should 
rather say. It shows itself by inclining the Soul to abhor its sin* 

Tatk. Why, what difference is there between crying out against, 
and abhoring of sin ? 

Faith. Oh! a great deal; a man may cry out against sin, of 
policy; but he cannot abhor it, but by vertue of a Godly antipathy 
against it: I have heard many cry out against sin in the Pulpit, who 
yet can abide it well enough in the heart, house, and conversation* 
Josephus Mistris cned out with a loud voice, as if she had been very 
holy; but she yDoutd willingly, notwithstanding that, have com¬ 
mitted uncleanness with him* Some cry out against sin, even as the 
Mother cries out against her Child in her lap, when she calleth it Slut 
and naughty Girl, and then falls to hugging and kissing it* 

Tatk. You lie at the catch, I perceive. 

Faith. No not I, I am only for setting things right* But what is 
the second thing whereby you would prove a discovery of a work of 
grace in the heart ? 

Talk. Great knowledge of Gospel Mysteries. 

Faith. This sign should have been first; but first or last, it is also 
false; for. Knowledge, great knowledge, may be obtained in the mys¬ 
teries of the Gospel, and yet no work of grace in the Soul: Yea, if a 
man have all knowledge, he may yet be nothing, and so consequently 
be no child of God* When Christ said. Do you know all these things? 
and the Disciples had answered. Yes: He addeth. Blessed are ye, if ye 
do them. He doth not lay the blessing in the knowing of them, but 
in the doing of them* For there is a knowledge that is not attended 
with doing: He that knoweth his Masters will, and doth it not. A 
man may know like an Angel, and yet be no Christian; therefore your 
sign is not true* Indeed to know, is a thing that pleaseth Talkers and 
Boasters ; but to do, is that which pleaseth God* Not that the heart 
can be good ’tPithout knowledge, for JPithout that the heart is naught* 
There is therefore knowledge and knowledge* Knowledge that resteth 


m 


12 


















in the bare speculation of things, and knowledge that is accompanied 
igyith the grace of faith and love, which puts a man upon doing even 
the will of God from the heart: the first of these will serve the Talker, 
but without the other the true Christian is not content* Give me un¬ 
derstanding, and I shall keep thy Law, yea I shall observe it with my 
whole heart. 

Talk. You lie at the catch again, this is not for edification. 

Faith. Well, if you please, propound another sign how this work 
of grace discovereth itself where it is* 

Talk. Not I, for I see we shall not agree. 

Faith. Well, if you will not, will you give me leave to do it ? 

Talk. You may use your liberty. 

Faith. A work of grace in the soul discovereth itself, either to him 
that hath it, or to standers by* 

To him that hath it, thus. It gives him conviction of sin, especially 
of the defilement of his nature, and the sin of unbelief, (for the sake 
of yi)hich he is sure to be damned, if he findeth not mercy at God's 
hand by faith in Jesus Christ*) This sight and sense of things worketh 
in him sorrow and shame for sin ; he findeth moreover rel>ealed in 
him the Saviour of the World, and the absolute necessity of closing 
with him for life, at the Tphich he findeth hungerings and thirstings 
after him, to which hungerings, etc* the promise is made* Now ac¬ 
cording to the strength or weakness of his Faith in his Saviour, so is 
his joy and peace, so is his love to holiness, so are his desires to know 
him more, and also to sefbe him in this World* But though I say it 
discovereth itself thus unto him ; yet it is but seldom that he is able 
to conclude that this is a work of Grace, because his corruptions now, 
and his abused reason, makes his mind to mis-judge in this matter; 
therefore in him that hath this work, there is required a very sound 
Judgement, before he can with steadiness conclude that this is a work 
of Grace* 

To others it is thus discovered* 

\* By an experimental confession of his Faith in Christ* 2. By a 
life answerable to that confession, to wit, a life of holiness; heart- 
holiness, family-holiness, (if he hath a Family) and by Conversation- 
holiness in the World: which in the general teacheth him, inwardly 
to abhor his Sin, and himself for that in secret, to suppress it in his 

90 




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Family, and to promote holiness in the World; not by talk only, as 
an Hypocrite or Talkative Person may do: but by a practical Subjec¬ 
tion in Faith, and Lo'be, to the polt>er of the 'iPord, And now Sir, as 
to this brief description of the work of Grace, and also the discovery 
of itf if you ha'be ought to object, object; if not, then give me lea'be 
to propound to you a second question* 

Talk. Nay, my part is not now to object, but to hear; let me 
therefore have your second question. 

Faith. It is this. Do you experience the first part of this description 
of it ? and doth your life and conversation testify the same? or stand- 
eth your Religion in Word or in Tongue, and not in Deed and Truth? 
pray, if you incline to answer me in this, say no more than you know 
the God above will say Amen to ; and also, nothing but what your 
Conscience can justify you in; For, not he that commendeth himself 
is approved, but whom the Lord commendeth. Besides, to say lam 
thus, and thus, when my Conversation, and all my Neighbors tell me 
I lye, is great wickedness* 

Talk. Then Halkative at first began to blush, but recovering him¬ 
self, Thus he replyed. You come now to Experience, to Conscience, and 
God: and to appeal to him for justification of what is spoken: This 
kind of discourse I did not expect, nor am I disposed to give an answer 
to such questions, because, I count not myself bound thereto, unless you 
take upon you to be a Catechiser; and, though you should so do, yet 
I may refuse to make you my Judge. But I pray will you tell me, 
why you ask me such questions ? 

Faith. Because I saw you forward to talk, and because I knew 
not that you had ought else but notion* Besides, to tell you all the 
Truth, I have heard of you, that you are a Man whose Religion lies in 
talk, and that your Conversation gives this your Mouth-profession the 
lye* They say You are a spot among Christians, and that Religion 
fareth the worse for your ungodly conversations that some already 
have stumbled at your wicked ways, and that more are in danger of 
being destroyed thereby ; your Religion, and an Ale-House, and Covet¬ 
ousness, and uncleanness, and swearing, and lying, and vain Company¬ 
keeping, etc* will stand together* The proverb is true of you, which 
is said of a Whore, to wit. That she is a shame to all Women; so 
you are a shame to all Professors. 





























































How Talkative at first lifts up his Plumes! 

How bravely doth he speak / how he presumes 
To drive down all before him I but so soon 
As Faithful talks of Heart-work, like the Moon 
Thafs past the fulU into the wane he goes 
And so will all, but he that Heart-work knows* 

Thus they went on talking of what they had seen by the way, and 
so made that way easy, which would otherwise, no doubt, have been 
tedious to them: for now they went through a Wilderness. 

Now when they were got almost quite out of this Wilderness, Faith¬ 
ful chanced to cast his eye back, and espied one coming after them, 
and he knew him. Oh! said Faithful to his Brother, who comes 
yonder? Then Christian looked, and said. It is my good friend 
Evangelist* Ay, and my good friend too, said Faithful; for ^twas 
he that set me the way to the Gate. Now was Evangelist come up 
unto them, and thus saluted them. 

Evang. Peace be with you, dearly beloved, and, peace be to your 
helpers. 

Chr. Welcome, welcome, my good Evangelist, the sight of thy 
countenance brings to my remembrance thy ancient kindness, and 
unl:Pearied laboring for my eternal good* 

Faith. And, a thousand times welcome, said good Faithful; Thy 
company, O sweet Evangelist, how desirable is it to us, poor Pilgrims I 

Evang. Then, said Evangelist, How hath it fared with you, my 
friends, since the time of our last parting ? what have you met with, 
and how have you behaved yourselves ? 

Then Christian and Faithful told him of all things that had hap¬ 
pened to them in the way; and how, and with what difficulty they 
had arrived to that place. 

Evang. Right glad am I, said Evangelist; not that you met with 
trials, but that you have been victors, and for that you have (notwith¬ 
standing many weaknesses,) continued in the way to this very day. 

I say, right glad am I of this thing, and that for mine own sake and 
yours; I have sowed, and you have reaped, and the day is coming, 
when both he that sowed, and they that reaped shall rejoice together; 
that is, if you hold out: for, in due time ye shall reap, if you faint not. 

















Then Christian thanked him for his exhortation. 

The Crown is before you^ and it is an incorruptible one; so run that 
you may obtain it. Some there be that set out for this Crown, and 
after they have gone far for it, another comes in, and takes it from 
them ? hold fast therefore that you have, let no man take your Crown. 
You are not yet out of the gun-shot of the Devil. You have not re¬ 
sisted unto blood, striving against sin. Let the Kingdom be always 
before you, and believe stedfastly concerning things that are invisible. 
Let nothing that is on this side the other world get within you; and 
above all, look well to your own hearts, and to the lusts thereof; for 
they are deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked: set your 
faces like a flint, you have all power in Heaven and Earth on your 
side. 

Chr. Then Christian thanked him for his exhortation, but told 
him withal, that they would have him speak farther to them for their 
help, the rest of the way ; and the rather, for that they well knew 
that he was a Prophet, and could tell them of things that might hap¬ 
pen unto them ; and also how they might resist and overcome them. 
To which request Faithful also consented. So Evangelist began as 
follo'weth, 

Evang. My Sons, you have heard in the words of the truth of the 
Gospel, that you must through many tribulations enter into the King¬ 
dom of Heaven. And again, that in every City, bonds and afflictions 
abide in you; and therefore you cannot expect that you should go 
long on your Pilgrimage without them, in some sort or other. You 






































have found something of the truth of these testimonies upon you 
already, and more will immediately follow: for now, as you see, you 
are almost out of this Wilderness, and therefore you Tvill soon come 
into a Town that you will by and by see before you: and in that 
Town you will be hardly beset with enemies, who will strain hard but 
they will kill you: and be you sure that one or both of you must seal 
the testimony which you hold, with blood: but be you faithful unto 
death, and the King will give you a Crown of life. He that shall die 
there, although his death will be unnatural, and his pain perhaps 
great, he will yet have the better of his fellow; not only because he 
will be arrived at the Coelestial City soonest, but because he will 
escape many miseries that the other will meet with in the rest of his 
Journey. But when you are come to the Town, and shall find 
fulfilled what I have here related, then remember your friend, and quit 
your selves like men; and commit the keeping of your souls to your 
God in well-doing, as unto a faithful Creator. 

Then I saw in my Dream, that when they were got out of the 
Wilderness, they presently saw a Town before them, and the name 
of that Town is Vanity; and at the town there is a Fair kept, 
called Vanity-Fair, It is kept all the Year long : it beareth the name 
of Vanity-Fairf because the Town where ^tis kept, is lighter than 
Vanity; and also, because all that is there sold, or that cometh thither, 
is Vanity, As is the saying of the wise, <All that cometh is Vanity, 

This Fair is no new erected business, but a thing of ancient 
standing; I will shew you the original of it. 

Almost five thousand years agone, there were Pilgrims walking to 
the Coelestial City, as these two honest persons are; and Beelzebubt 
Apollyom and Legiom with their Companions, perceiving by the path 
that the Pilgrims made, that their way to the City lay through this 
Town of Vanity t they contrived here to set up a Fair; a Fair wherein 
should be sold of all sorts of Vanity, and that it should last all the year 
long. Therefore at this Fair are all such Merchandize sold, as Houses, 
Lands, Trades, Places, Honors, Preferments, Titles, Countries, King¬ 
doms, Lusts, Pleasures and Delights of all sorts, as Whores, Bawds, 
Wives, Husbands, Children, Masters, Servants, Lives, Blood, Bodies, 
Souls, Silver, Gold, Pearls, Precious Stones, and what not. 

95 






























The name of that Town is Vanity; and at the Town there is a Fair kept, called Vanity-Fain 

















































































































And moreover, at this Fair there is at all times to be seen Jugglings, 
Cheats, Games, Plays, Fools, Apes, Knaves, and Rogues, and that of 
every kind. 

Here are to be seen too, and that for nothing. Thefts, Murders, 
Adulteries, False-swearers, and that of a blood-red colour. 

And as in other fairs of less moment, there are the several Rows 
and Streets, under their proper names, where such and such Wares 
are vended: So here likewise, you have the proper Places, Rows, 
Streets, {viz* Countreys and Kingdoms,) where the Wares of this 
Fair are soonest to be found: Here is the Britain Row, the French 
Row, the Italian Row, the Spanish Row, the German Row, where 
several sorts of Vanities are to be sold. But as in other fairs t some 
one Commodity is as the chief of all the fair, so the Ware of Rome 
and her Merchandize is greatly promoted in this fair: Only our 
English Nation, with some others, have taken a dislike thereat. 

Now, as I said, the way to the Ccelestial City lies just through this 
Town, where this lusty Fair is kept; and he that will go to the City, 
and yet not go through this Town, must needs go out of the World, 
The Prince of Princes himself, when here, went through this Town 
to his own Country, and that upon a Fair-day too: Yea, and as I 
think, it was Beelzebub the chief Lord of this Fair, that invited him to 
buy of his Vanities ? yea, would have made him Lord of the Fair, would 
he but have done him Reverence as he went through the Town, Yea, 
because he was such a person of Honour, Beelzebub had him from 
Street to Street, and shewed him all the Kingdoms of the World in a 
little time, that he might, if possible, allure that Blessed One, to cheapen 
and buy some of his Vanities, But he had no mind to the Merchan¬ 
dize, and therefore left the Town, without laying out so much as one 
Farthing upon these Vanities, This Fair therefore is an Ancient 
thing, of long standing, and a very great Fair, 

Now these Pilgrims, as I said, must needs go through this fair. 
Well, so they did; but behold, even as they entred into the fair, all 
the people in the fair were moved, and the Town it self as it were in a 
Hubbub about them; and that for several reasons: For, 

First, The Pilgrims were cloathed with such kind of Raiment as 
was diverse from the Raiment of any that Traded in that fair. The 
people therefore of the fair made a great gazing upon them. Some 


13 




















said they were Fools, some they were Bedlams, and some they are 
Outlandish-men. 

Secondly, And as they wondred at their Apparel, so they did like¬ 
wise at their Speech, for few could understand what they said; they 
naturally spoke the Language of Canaan, but they that kept the fair, 
were the men of this World: so that from one end of the fair to the 
other, they seemed Barbarians each to the other. 

Thirdly, But that which did not a little amuse the Merchandisers, 
was, that these Pilgrims set very light by all their Wares, they cared 

not so much as 




to look upon 
them: and if 
they called upon 
them to buy, 
they would put 
their fingers in 
their ears, and 
cry, ^um azuay 
mine eyes from 
beholding van¬ 
ity ; and look 
upwards, signi¬ 
fying that their 
Trade and 
Traffic was in 
Heaven. 

One chanced 
mockingly, be¬ 
holding the car¬ 
riages of the 
men, to say un¬ 
to them. What 
will ye buy ? 
But they, look¬ 
ing gravely 






















































i! 




upon him, said, We buy the Truth, At that, there was an occasion 
taken to despise the men the more; some mocking, some taunting, 
some speaking reproachfully, and some calling upon others to smite 
them. At last things came to an hubbub and great stir in the fair, in 
so much that all order was confounded. Now was word presently 
brought to the Great One of the fair, who quickly came down, 
and deputed some of his most trusty friends to take these men into 
examination, about 
whom the fair was 
almost overturned. 

So the men were 
brought to examina¬ 
tion; and they that 
sat upon them asked IM 
them whence they 
came, whither they 
went, and what they 
did there in such an 
unusual Garb? The 
men told them, that 
they were Pilgrims 
and Strangers in the 
World, and that they 
were going to their 
own Country, which 
was the Heavenly /e- 
rusatem; and that 
they had given none 
occasion to the men of 
the Town, nor yet to 
the Merchandizers, 
thus to abuse them, 
and to let them in their 
Journey. Except it 

was for that, when one Some said they were Fook, some they were Bedlams. 

99 




#1 
























































asked them what they would buy, they said they would buy the Truth, 
But they that were appointed to examine them did not believe them to 
be any other than Bedlams and Mad, or else such as came to put all 
things into a confusion in the fair. Therefore they took them and beat 
them, and besmeared them with dirt, and then put them into the Cage, 
that they might be made a Spectacle to all the men of the fair. There 
therefore they lay for some time, and were made the objects of any mans 
sport, or malice, or revenge. The Great One of the fair laughing still at 
all that befel them. But the men being patient, and not rendering railing 
for railing, but contrarywise blessing, and giving good words for bad, 
and kindness for injuries done, some men in the fair that were more 
observing, and less prejudiced than the rest, began to check and blame 
the baser sort for their continual abuses done by them to the men. 
They therefore in angry manner let fly at them again, counting them 

as bad as the men in the Cage, 
and telling them that they 
seemed confederates, and 
should be made partakers of 
their misfortunes. The other 
replied. That for ought they 
could see, the men were quiet, 
and sober, and intended no¬ 
body any harm; and that there 
were many that traded in their 
fair, that were more worthy to 
be put into the Cage, yea, and 
Pillory too, than were the men 
that they had abused. Thus, 
after divers words had passed 
on both sides, (the men behav¬ 
ing themselves all the while 
very wisely and soberly before 
them,) they fell to some Blows, 
and did harm one to another. 
Then were these two poor men 
TWo,e .hey p„. ,hem in.„ .he Cage, .ha. .hey migh. before thdr Examiners 

be made a Spectacle to all the men of the fair. ^§f2.in, and there charged aS 


















































































abode in the condition in which they were, until they should be 
otherwise disposed of. 

Then a convenient time being appointed, they brought them forth 
to their Tryal in order to their GDndemnation. When the time was 
come, they were brought before their Enemies and arraigned; the 
Judge^s name was Lord Hate-good* Their indictment was one and 
the same in substance, though somewhat varying in form; the 
Contents whereof was this. 

Hhat they <were enemies to, and disturbers of their Trade; that they 
had made Commotions and Divisions in the Town, and had won a 
party to their oy0n most dangerous opinions, in contempt of the Law 
of their Prince* 

Then Faithful began to answer. That he had only set himself 
against that which had set itself against him that is higher than the 
highest. And said he. As for disturbance, I make none, being myself 
a man of Peace; the Parties that were won to us, were won by be¬ 
holding our Truth and Innocence, and they are only turned from the 
worse to the better. And as to the King you talk of, since he is 
Beelzebub, the Enemy of our Lord, I defy him and all his Angels. 

Then Proclamation was made, that they that had ought to say for 
their Lord the King against the Prisoner at the Bar, should forthwith 
appear and give in their evidence. So there came in three Witnesses, 
to wit. Envy, Superstition, and Pickthank* They were then asked. If 
they knew the Prisoner at the Bar? and what they had to say for their 
Lord the King against him ? 

Then stood forth Envy, and said to this effect; My Lord, I have 
known this man a long time, and will attest upon my Oath before this 
honourable Bench, That he is- 

Judge. Hold, give him his Oath; 

So they sware him. Then he said. My Lord, This man, notwith¬ 
standing his plausible name, is one of the vilest men in our Country; 
he neither regardeth Prince nor People, Law nor Custom: but doth all 
that he can to possess all men with certain of his disloyal notions, 
which he in the general calls Principles of Faith and Holiness. And 
in particular, I heard him once myself affirm, Hhat Christianity and 
the Customs of our Town of Vanity, were Diametrically opposite, 
and could not be reconciled* By which saying, my Lord, he doth 

































Envy, Superstition, and Pickthank. 


at once, not only condemn all our laudable doings, but us in the 
doing of them. 

Judge. Then did the Judge say to him, Hast thou any more to say ? 

Envy. My Lord I could say much more, only I would not be tedi¬ 
ous to the Court. Yet if need be, when the other Gentlemen have 
given in their Evidence, rather than anything shall be wanting that 
will dispatch him, I will enlarge my Testimony against him. So he 
was bid stand by. Then they called Superstition, and bid him look 
upon the Prisoner; they also asked. What he could say for their Lord 
the King against him ? Then they sware him, so he began. 

Super. My Lord, I have no great acquaintance with this man, nor 
do I desire to have further knowledge of him; However this I know, 
that he is a very pestilent fellow, from some discourse that the other 
day I had with him in this Town ; for then talking with him, I heard 
him say. That our Religion was naught, and such by which a man 
could by no means please God: which sayings of his, my Lord, your 
Lordship very well knows, what necessarily thence will follow, to wit, 
That we still do worship in vain, are yet in our Sins, and finally shall 
be damned; and this is that which I have to say. 

Then was Pickthank sworn, and bid say what he knew, in behalf 
of their Lord the King against the Prisoner at the Bar. 

103 
















































Pick. My Lord, and you gentlemen all, This fellow I have known 
of a long time, and have heard him speak things that ought not to be 
spoke. For he hath railed on our noble Prince Beelzebub^ and hath 
spoke contemptibly of his honourable Friends, whose names are the 
Lord Oldman, the Lord Carnal-delight, the Lord Luxurious, the Lord 
Desire of Vainglory, my old Lord Lechery, Sir Having Greedy, with 
all the rest of our Nobility; and he hath said moreover, that if all men 
were of his mind, if possible, there is not one of these Noblemen should 
have any longer a being in this Town. Besides, he hath not been 
afraid to rail on you, my Lord, who are now appointed to be his Judge, 
calling you an ungodly Villain, with many other such like vilifying 
terms, with which he hath bespattered most of the Gentry of our Town. 

When this Pickthank had told his 
tale, the Judge directed his speech to 
the Prisoner at the Bar, saying. 
Thou Runagate, Heretick, and 
Traitor, hast thou heard what these 
honest Gentlemen have witnessed 
against thee? 

Faith. cMay L speak a few 
words in my oyt>n defence? 

Judge. Sirrah, Sirrah, thou de- 
servest to live no longer, but to be 
slain immediately upon the place; 
yet that all men may see our gentle¬ 
ness towards thee, let us see what 
thou hast to say. 

Faith. 1. I say then in answer 
to what Mr. En'hy hath spoken, I 
never said ought but this. That what 
Rule, or Laws, or Custom, or Peo¬ 
ple, were flat against the Word of 
God, are diametrically opposite to 
Christianity, If I have said amiss 
in this, convince me of my error, and 
I am ready here before you to make 
my recantation. 

104 


The Lord Luxtirious. 





























































2. As to the second, to wit, Mr. Superstition^ and his charge against 
me, I said only this, Ufiat in the worship of God there is required a di¬ 
vine Faith ; but there can be no divine Faith vuithout a divine Revela¬ 
tion of the vuill of God: therefore whatever is thrust into theJi>orship 
of God, that is not agreeable to divine Revelation, cannot be done but 
by an human Faith ; which Faith will not be profit to Eternal life. 

3. As to what Mr. Pickthank hath said, I say, (avoiding terms, as 
that I am said to rail, and the like) That the Prince of this Town, with 
all the Rahblement his Attendants, by this Gentleman named, are more 
fit for a being in Hell, than in this Town and Country; and so the 
Lord have mercy upon me. 

Then the Judge called to the Jury (who all this while stood by, to 
hear and observe) Gentlemen of the Jury, you see this man about whom 
so great an uproar hath been made in this Town: you have also 
heard what these worthy Gentlemen have witnessed against him; also 
you have heard his reply and confession: It lieth now in your breasts 
to hang him, or save his life. But yet I think meet to instruct you into 
our Law. 

There was an Act made in the days of Pharaoh the Great, Servant 
to our Prince, That lest those of a contrary Religion should multiply 
and grow too strong for him, their Males should be thrown into the 
River. There was also an Act made in the days of Nebuchadnezzar 


The Lord Carnal-delight. 
105 


14 


































He descfveth to die the death< 













































































































































































































































































































































































































































the Great, another of his Servants, that whoever would not fall down 
and worship his golden Image, should be thrown into a fiery Furnace. 
There was also an Act made in the days of Darius^ That whoso, for 
some time, called upon any God but him, should be cast into the Lions^ 
Den. Now the substance of these Laws this Rebel has broken, not 
only in thought (which is not to be borne) but also in word and deed; 
which must therefore needs be intolerable. 

For that of Pharaoh, his Law was made upon a supposition, to pre¬ 
vent mischief, no Crime being yet apparent; but here is a Crime ap¬ 
parent. For the second and third, you see he disputeth against our 
Religion; and for the Treason he hath confessed, he deserveth to die 
the death. 

Then went the Jury out, whose names were, Mr. Blind-man, Mr. No¬ 
good, Mr. Malice, Mr. Love-lust, Mr. Live-loose, Mr. Heady, Mr. 
High-mind, Mr. Enmity, Mr. Lyar, Mr. Cruelty, Mr. Hate-light, and 
Mr. Implacable, who every one gave in his private Verdict against him 
among themselves, and afterwards unanimously concluded to bring 
him in guilty before the Judge. And first Mr. Blind-man the Fore¬ 
man, said, / see clearly that this man is an Heretick, Then said Mr. 
No-good, Avuay <with such a fellow from the Earth, Ay, said Mr. 
Malice, for I hate the 'bery looks of him. Then said Mr. Love-lust, 
I could never endure him. Nor I, said Mr. Live-loose, for he would 
always be condemning my way. Hang him, hang him, said Mr. 
Heady. A sorry Scrub, said Mr. High-mind. My heart riseth against 
him, said Mr. Enmity. He is a ^ppgue, said Mr. Lyar. Hanging is 
too good for him, said Mr. Cruelty. Lets dispatch him out of the 
Ibay, said Mr. Hate-light. Then said Mr. Implacable, cMight I have 
all the World given me, I could not be reconciled to him, therefore let 
us forthwith bring him in guilty of death ; And so they did, therefore 
he was presently condemned. To be had from the place where he was, 
to the place from whence he came, and there to be put to the most 
cruel death that could be invented. 

They therefore brought him out, to do with him according to their 
Law; and first they Scourged him, then they Buffeted him, then they 
Lanced his flesh with Knives; after that, they Stoned him with Stones, 
then prickt him with their Swords, and last of all they burned him to 







































Ashes at the Stake. Thus cam^. Faithful to his end. Now, I saw 
that there stood behind the multitude, a Chariot and a couple of Horses, 
waiting for Faithfuf who (so soon as his adversaries had dispatched 
him) was taken up into it, and straightway was carried up through 
the Clouds, with sound of Trumpet, the nearest way to the Coelestial 
Gate. But as for Christian^ he had some respit, and was remanded 
back to prison, so he there remained for a space. But he that over¬ 
rules all things, having the power of their rage in his own hand, so 
wrought it about, that Christian for that time escaped them, and went 
his way. 

And as he went he sang, saying. 

Well, Faithful, thou heist faithfully profest 
Unto thy Lord: with whom thou shalt be blest; 

When Faithless ones, with all their vain delights, 

(Are crying out under their hellish plights. 

Sing, Faithful, sing ; and let thy name survive. 

For though they kill'd thee, thou art yet alive. 

Now I saw in my Dream, that Christian went not forth alone, for 
there was one whose name was Hopeful, (being made so by the be¬ 
holding of Christian and Faithful in their words and behaviour, in 
their sufferings at the fair) who joyned himself unto him, and entering 
into a brotherly covenant, told him that he would be his Companion. 
Thus one died to make Testimony to the Truth, and another rises 
out of his Ashes to be a Companion with Christian, This Hopeful 
also told Christian, that there were many more of the men in the fair 
that would take their time and follow after. 

So I saw that quickly after they were got out of the fair, they over¬ 
took one that was going before them, whose name was By-ends ; so 
they said to him. What Country-man, Sir? and how far go you 
this way? He told them. That he came from the Town of Fair- 
speech, and he was going to the Coelestial City, (but told them not 
his name.) 

From Fair-speech, said Christian; is there any that be good live 
there? 

By-ends. Yes, said By-ends, I hope. 

Chr. Pray Sir, what may I call you ? 




















Love-lost, High-mind. Lyar. Blind-man. No-good. Heady, 



Enmity, Implacable. Hate-light, Live-loose. Cruelty, 



























































































































































































































































By-ends. I am a Stranger to you, and you to me; if you be going 
this way, I shall be glad of your Company; if not, I must be content. 

Chr. This TolPDti of Fair-speech, I have heard of it dnd, as 1 
remember, they say it's a Wealthy place. 

By-ends. Yes, I will assure you that it is, and I have very many 
rich Kindred there. 

Chr. Pray, ypho are your Kindred there, if a man may be so 
bold? 

By-ENDS. Almost the whole Town; and in particular, my Lord 
Turn-about, my Lord Time-seiner, my Lord Fair-speech, (from whose 
Ancestors that Town first took its name:) Also Mr. Smooth-man, 
Mr. Facing-bothvuays, Mr. Any-thing, and the Parson of our Parish, 
Mr. Two-tongues, was my Mothers own Brother by Father^s side: 
And, to tell you the Truth, I am a Gentleman of good Quality; yet 
my Great-Grandfather was but a Water-man, looking one way, and 
rowing another; and I got most of my Estate by the same occupation. 

Chr. Are you a married man ? 

By-ends. Yes, and my Wife is a very vertuous Woman, the Daugh¬ 
ter of a vertuous Woman. She was my Lady Fainings Daughter, 
therefore she came of a very Honourable Family, and is arrived at such 
a pitch of Breeding, that she knows how to carry it to all, even to 
Prince and Peasant. ^Tis true, we somewhat differ in Religion from 
those of the stricter sort, yet but in two small points: First, we 
never strive against Wind and Tide. Secondly, we are always 
most zealous when Religion goes in his Silver Slippers; we love 
much to walk with him in the Street, if the Sun shines, and the people 
applaud it. 

Then Christian stept a little a to-side to his fellow Hopeful, saying, 
It runs in my mind that this is one By-ends of Fair-speech, and if it be 
he, we have as very a Knave in our Company as dwelleth in all these 
parts. Then said Hopeful, Ask him ; methinks he should not be 
ashamed of his name. So Christian came up with him again, and 
said. Sir, you talk as if you knew something more than all the World 
doth, and if I take not my mark amiss, I deem I have half a guess of 
you: Is not your name Mr. By-ends of Fair-speech ? 

By-ends. That is not my name, but indeed it is a Nickname that 
is given me by some that cannot abide me, and I must be content to 
































And last of all they burned him to Ashes at the Stake. Thus came Faithful to his end. 























































































bear it as a reproach, as 
other good men have borne 
theirs before me. 

Chr. But did you never 
gi'be an occasion to men to 
call you by this name ? 

By-ends. Never, never! 
the worst that ever I did to 
give them an occasion to 
give me this name, was, 
that I had always the luck 
to jump in my Judgment 
with the present way of 
the times, whatever it was, 
and my chance was to get 
thereby; but if things are 
thus cast upon me, let me 
count them a blessing, but 
let not the malicious load 
me therefore with re¬ 
proach. 

Chr. I thought indeed, 
that you was the man that 
I had heard of, and to tell you what I think, I fear this name belongs 
to you more properly than you are willing we should think it doth. 

By-ends. Well, if you will thus imagine, I cannot help it. You 
shall find me a fair Company-keeper, if you will still admit me your 
associate. 

Chr. If you will go with us, you must go against Wind and Tide, 
the which, I percei't>e, is against your opinion: You must also own 
Religion in his Rags, as l:Pell as when in his Silver Slippers, and stand 
by him too, when bound in Irons, as well as when he walketh the 
Streets with applause. 

By-ends. You must not impose, nor lord it over my Faith; leave 
me to my liberty, and let me go with you. 

Chr. Not a step further, unless you Tpill do in l^hat I propound, 
as we. 



112 



















































"1 


yjLc 


y 


Then said By-ends^ I shall never desert my old Principles, since they 
are harmless and profitable. If I may not go with you, I must do as I 
did before you overtook me, even go by myself, until some overtake 
me that will be glad of my Company. 

Now I saw in my dream, that Christian and Hopeful t forsook him, 
and kept their distance before him; but one of them looking back, 
saw three men following Mr. By-ends, and behold, as they came 
up with him, he made them a very low Congee, and they also gave 
him a Compliment* The men^s names were Mr. Hold-the- World, Mr. 
cMony-love, and Mr. Save-all; men that Mr. By-ends had formerly 
been acquainted with; for in their minority they were schoolfellow, 
and were taught by one Mr. Gripe-man, a School-master in Love- 
gain, which is a market town 
in the County of Coveting in 
the North. This School-mas¬ 
ter taught them the art of get¬ 
ting, either by violence, cous- 
enage, flattery, lying, or by 
putting on a guise of Religion; 
and these four Gentlemen had 
attained much of the art of their 
Master, so that they could each 
of them have kept such a School 
themselves. 

Well when they had, as I 
said, thus saluted each other^ 

Mr. Mony-love said to Mr. By^ 
ends. Who are they upon the 
Road before us ? For Christian 
and Hopeful were yet within 
view. 

By-ends. They are a couple 
of far country-men, that after 
their mode, are going on Pil¬ 
grimage. 

Mony-love. Alas, why did 
they not stay that we n-iight 


They overtook one that was going before them, 
whose name was By-ends. 

113 


15 







































y/A 


have had their good company, for they, and we, and you Sir, I hope, 
are all going on Pilgrimage. 

By-ends. We are so indeed, but the men before us are so rigid, and 
love so much their own notions, and do also so lightly esteem the 
Opinions of others; that let a man be never so godly, yet if he jumps 
not with them in all things, they thrust him quite out of their 
company. 

Save-all. That^s bad; But we read of some, that are righteous 
over-much, and such men^s rigidness prevails with them to judge and 
condemn all but themselves. But I pray what and how many, were 
the things wherein you differed. 

By-ends. Why they after their headstrong manner, conclude that it 
is duty to rush on their Journey all weathers, and I am for waiting for 
Wind and Tide, They are for hazarding all for God, at a clap, and I 
am for taking all advantages to secure my life and estate. They are 
for holding their notions, though all other men are against them; but 
I am for Religion in what, and so far as the times, and my safety will 
bear it. They are for Religion, when in rags, and contempt; but I 
am for him when he walks in his golden slippers in the Sun-shine, 
and with applause. 

Hold-The-World. Ay, and hold you there still, good Mr. By-ends, 
for, for my part, I can count him but a fool, that having the liberty to 
keep what he has, shall be so unwise as to lose it. Let us be wise as 
Serpents, ^tis best to make hay when the Sun shines; you see how the 
Bee lieth still all winter and bestirs her then only when she can have 
profit with pleasure. God sends sometimes Rain, and sometimes Sun¬ 
shine ; if they be such fools to go through the first, yet let us be con¬ 
tent to take fair weather along with us. For my part I like that 
Religion best, that will stand with the security of God^s good blessings 
unto us; for who can imagine that is ruled by his reason, since God 
has bestowed upon us the good things of this life, but that he would 
have us keep them for his sake. Abraham and Solomon grew rich in 
Religion. And Job says, that a good man shall lay up gold as dust. 
But he must not be such as the men before us, if they be as you have 
described them. 

Save-all. I think that we are all agreed in this matter, and there- 

114 

























(o^t 




m. 






fore there needs no more words 
about it* 

Mony-love. No, there 
needs no more words about 
this matter indeed, for he that 
believes neither Scripture nor 
reason (and you see we have 
both on our side) neither 
knows his own liberty, nor 
seeks his own safety. 

By-ends. My Brethren, we 
are, as you see, going all on 
Pilgrimage, and for our bet¬ 
ter diversion from things that 
are bad, give me leave to 
propound unto you this ques¬ 
tion. 

Suppose a man, a Minister, 
or a Tradesman, Sc, should 
have an advantage lie before 
him to get the good blessings 
of this life. Yet so, as that 
he can by no means come by 
them, except, in appearance at 
least, he becomes extraordi¬ 
nary Zealous in some points of Religion, that he meddled not "tPith be¬ 
fore, may he not use this means to attain his end, and yet be a right 
honest man ? 

Mony-LOVE. I see the bottom of your question, and with these 
Gentlemen^s good leave, I will endeavour to shape you an answer. 
And first to speak to your question, as it concerns a Minister himself. 
Suppose a cMinister, a voorthy man, possessed but of a very small 
benefice, and has in his eye a greater, more fat, and plump by far; he 
has also novo an opportunity of getting of it; yet so as by being more 
studious, by preaching more frequently and zealously, and because the 
temper of the people requires it, by altering of some of his principles; 



Mr. Mony-love. 






I) S' 
























































for my part 1 see no reason but a man may do this {provided he has a 
calU) ay, and more a great deal besides, and yet be an honest man* 
For why, 

His desire of a greater benefice is lawful (this cannot be contra¬ 
dicted) since ^tis set before him by providence; so then, he may get it 
if he can, making no question for conscience sake, 

2. Besides, his desire after that benefice makes him more studious, a 
more zealous preacher, &c, and so makes him a better man. Yea 
makes him better improve his parts, which is according to the mind of 
God. 

3. Now as for his complying with the temper of his people, by dis¬ 
senting, to serve them, some of his principles, this argueth, U That he 
is of a self-denying temper. 2. Of a sweet and winning deportment. 
3. And so more fit for the Ministerial function. 

4. I conclude then, that a Minister that changes a small for a great, 
should not, for so doing, be judged as covetous, but rather, since he is 
improved in his parts and industry thereby, be counted as one that 
pursues his call, and the opportunity put into his hand to do good. 

And now to the second part of the question which concerns the 
Tradesman you mentioned: suppose such an one to have but a poor 
imploy in the world, but by becoming Religious, he may mend his 
market, perhaps get a rich wife, or more and far better customers to 
his shop. For my part I see no reason but that this may be lawfully 
done. For why, 

1. To become religious is a vertue, by what means soever a man 
becomes so. 

2. Nor is it unlawful to get a rich wife, or more custom to my 
shop. 

3. Besides the man that gets these by becoming religious, gets 
that which is good, of them that are good, by becoming good him¬ 
self ; so then here is a good wife, and good customers, and good gain, 
and all these by becoming religious, which is good. Therefore to be¬ 
come religious to get all these is a good and profitable design. 

This answer, thus made by this Mr. cMony-love to Mr. By-ends 
question, was highly applauded by them all; wherefore they concluded 
upon the whole, that it was most wholsome and advantageous. And 

because, as they thought, no man was able to contradict it, and because 

116 
























Christian and Hopeful was yet within call, they joyntly agreed to 
assault them with the question as soon as they overtook them, and the 
rather because they had opposed Mr. By-ends before. So they called 
after them, and they stopt, and stood still till they came up to them; 
but they concluded as they went, that not Mr. By-ends^ but old Mr. 
Hold-the-t^orld should propound the question to them, because, as they 
supposed, their answer to him would be without the remainder of that 
heat that was kindled betwixt Mr. By-ends and them, at their parting 
a little before. 

So they came up to each other and after a short salutation, Mr. 
Hold-the- World propounded the question to Christian and his fellow, 
and bid them to answer it if they could. 

Chr. Then said Christian, even a babe in Religion may answer ten 
thousand such questions. For if it be unlawful to follow Christ for loaves, 
as it is. Job. 6. How much more abominable is it to make of him and 
religion a stalking horse to get and 
enjoy the world. Nor do we find 
any other than Heathens, Hypo¬ 
crites, Devils and Witches that are 
of this opinion. 

1. Heathens, for when Hamor 
and Shechem had a mind to the 
Daughter and Cattle of Jacob, and 
saw that there was no ways for 
them to come at them, but by be¬ 
coming circumcised, they say to 
their companions; If every male of 
us be circumcised, as they are cir¬ 
cumcised, shall not their Cattle, and 
their substance, and every beast of 
theirs be ours? Their Daughter 
and their Cattle were that which 
they sought to obtain, and their Re¬ 
ligion the stalking horse they made 
use of to come at them. Read the 
whole story, Gen. 34.20,2 J, 22,23. 

2. The Hypocritical Pharisees Mr.Save-aK. 










































were also of this Religion^ long prayers were their pretence, but to get 
widows^ houses were their intent, and greater damnation was from God 
their Judgment, Lake 20. 46, 47. 

3. Judas the Devil was also of this Religion, he was religious for 
the bag, that he might be possessed of what was therein; but he was 
lost, cast away, and the very Son of perdition. 

4. Simon the witch was of this Religion too, for he would have had 

the Holy Ghost, that he might have got money therewith, and his 
sentence from Peter's mouth was according. Acts 8. 20, 2i, 22. 

5. Neither will it out of my mind, but that that man that takes up 
Religion for the world, will throw away Religion for the world; for 
so surely as Judas designed the world in becoming religious, so surely 
did he also sell Religion, and his Master for the same. To answer 
the question therefore affirmatively, as I perceive you have done, and 
to accept of as authentick such answer, is both Heathenish, Hypocriti¬ 
cal and Devilish, and your reward will be according to your works. 
Then they stood staring one upon another, but had not wherewith to 
answer Christian* Hopeful also approved of the soundness of Chris¬ 
tian's answer, so there was a great silence among them. Mr. By- 
ends and his company also staggered and kept behind, that Christian 
and Hopeful might -outgo them. Then said Christian to his fellow. If 
these men cannot stand before the sentence of men, what will they do 
with the sentence of God ? & if they are mute when dealt with by ves¬ 
sels of clay, what will they do when they shall be rebuked by the flames 
of a devouring fire ? 

Then Christian and Hopeful out-went them, and went till they 
came at a delicate Plain, called Ease, where they went with much con¬ 
tent ; but that plain was but narrenv, so they were quickly got over it. 
Now at the further side of that plain, was a little Hill called Lucre, and 
in that Hill a Silver-cMine, which some of them that had formerly 
gone that way, because of the rarity of it, had turned aside to see; but 
going too near the brink of the pit, the ground being deceitful under 
them, broke, and they were slain; some also had been maimed there, 
and could not to their dying day be their own men again. 

Then I saw in my Dream, that a little off the road, over against the 






































































Hope. I will warrant you, when By-ends comes up, if he hath the 
same Mitation as l:Pe, he will turn in thither to see. 

Chr. No doubt thereof^ for his principles lead him that way^ and a 
hundred to one but he dies there* 

De. Then Demas called again, saying, But will you not come over 
and see ? 

Chr. Then Christian roundly answered, saying, Demas, Thou art 
an Enemy to the right ways of the Lord in this way, and hast been 
already condemned for thine own turning aside, by one of his 
Majesty^s Judges; and why seekest thou to bring us into the like con¬ 
demnation ? Besides, if we at all turn aside, our Lord the King will 
certainly hear thereof; and will there put us to shame, where we 
would stand with boldness before him. 

Demas cried again. That he also was one of their fraternity; and 
that if they would tarry a little, he also himself would walk with 
them. 

Chr. Then said Christian, What is thy name ? is it not the same 
by the which I have called thee ? 

De. Yes, my name is Demas, I am the son of Abraham. 

Chr. I know you, Gehazi was your Great-Grandfather, and Judas 
your Father, and you have trod their steps. It is but a devilish prank 
that thou usest. Thy Father was hanged for a Traitor, and thou de- 
servest no better reward. Assure thyself, that when we come to the 
King, we will do him word of this thy behaviour. Thus they went 
their way. 

By this time By-ends and his companions was come again within 
sight, and they at the first beck went over to Demas. Now whether 
they fell into the Pit by looking over the brink thereof; or whether 
they went down to dig, or whether they were smothered in the bot¬ 
tom, by the damps that commonly arise, of these things I am not cer¬ 
tain: But this I observed, that they were never seen again in the 
way. Then sang Christian, 

By-ends andSilver-Demas both agree; 

One calls, the other runs, that he may be, 

A sharer in his Lucre: so these two 
Take up in this World, and no further go. 



















Now I saw, that just on the other side of this Plain, the Pilgrims came 
to a place where stood an old cMonumentf hard by the High-way-side, 
at the sight of which they were both concerned, because of the strange¬ 
ness of the form thereof; for it seemed to them as if it had been a 
Woman transformed into the shape of a Pillar: here therefore they 
stood looking, and looking upon it, but could not for a time tell what 
they should make thereof. At last Hopeful espied written above upon 
the head thereof, a Writing in an unusual hand; but he being no 
Scholar, called to Christian (for he was learned) to see if he could pick 
out the meaning: so he came, and after a little laying of Letters 
together, he found the same to be this, ^^Hpnember Lot's Wife, So he 
read it to his fellow; after which, they both concluded, that that was 
the Pillar of Salt into which Lot's Wife was turned for looking back 
with a covetous hearty she was going from Sodom for safety, 

which sudden and amazing sight, gave them occasion of this dis¬ 
course. 

Chr. Ah my brother, this is a seasonable sight, it came oppor¬ 
tunely to us after the invitatian which Demas gave us to come over 
to view the Hill Lucre : and had we gone over as he desired us, and 
as thou wast inclining to do (my Brother) we had, for ought I know, 
been made ourselves like this Woman, a spectacle for those that shall 
come after to behold. 

Hope. I am sorry that I was so foolish, and am made to wonder 
that I am not now as Lot's Wife; for wherein was the difference 
^twixt her sin and mine. She only looked back, and I had a desire to 
go see. Let Grace be adored, and let me be ashamed that ever such a 
thing should be in mine heart. 

Chr. Let us take notice of what we see here, for our help for time 
to come: This woman escaped one Judgment; for she fell not by the 
destruction of Sodom^ yet she was destroyed by another; as we see, 
she is turned into a Pillar of Salt. 

Hope. True, and she may be to us both Caution and Example; 
Caution that we should shun her sin, or a sign of what judgment will 
overtake such as shall not be prevented by this caution. So Koraht 
Datham and Abiram, with the two hundred and fifty men, that per¬ 
ished in their sin, did also become a sign, or example to others to be¬ 
ware. But above all, I muse at one thing, to wit, how Demas and his 

121 




IG 









They both concluded that that was the Pillar of Salt into which Lot^s Wife was turned 
for looking back with a covetous heart. 





























































fellows can stand so confidently yonder to look for that treasure^ which 
this Woman, but for looking behind her, after (for we read not that 
she stept one foot out of the way) was turned into a pillar of Salt; 
specially since the Judgment which overtook her, did make her an ex¬ 
ample, within sight of where they are: for they cannot chuse but see 
her, did they but lift up their eyes. 

Chr. It is a thing to be wondered at, and it argueth that their heart 
is grown desperate in the case; and I cannot tell who to compare them 
to so fitly, as to them that pick Pockets in the presence of the Judge, 
or that will cut Purses under the Gallows. It is said of the men of 
Sodorrit that they ytyere sinners exceedingly, because they were sinners 
before the Lord; that is, in his eyesight; and notwithstanding the 
kindnesses that he had shewed them, for the land of Sodom, was now, 
like the Garden of Eden heretofore* This therefore provoked him the 
more to jealousy, and made their plague as hot as the fire of the Lord 
out of Heaven could make it. And it is most rationally to be con¬ 
cluded, that such, even such as these are, that shall sin in the sight, 
yea, and that too in despite of such examples that are set continually 
before them, to caution them to the contrary, must be partakers of 
severest Judgments. 

Hope. Doubtless thou hast said the truth, but what a mercy is it, 
that neither thou, but especially I, am not made myself this example: 
this ministreth occasion to us to thank God, to fear before him, and 
always to remember Lot's Wife. 

I saw then, that they went on their way to a pleasant River, which 
David the King called the River of God; but John, the Ri'ber of the 
voater of life* Now their way lay just upon the bank of the River: 
here therefore Christian and his Companion walked with great delight. 
They drank also of the water of the River, which was pleasant and 
enlivening to their weary Spirits: besides, on the banks of this River 
on either side were green Trees, that bore all manner of Fruit; and 
the leaves of the Trees were good for Medicine; with the Fruit of 
these Trees they were also much delighted; and the leaves they eat to 
prevent Surfeits, and other Diseases that are incident to those that heat 
their blood by Travels. On either side of the River was also a 
Meadow, curiously beautified with Lilies; and it was green all the 
year long. In this Meadow they lay down and slept, for here they 

123 


















Si 

■ \\ 


might tie down safely. When they awoke, they gathered again of 
the Fruit of the Trees, and drank again of the Water of the River, 
and then lay down again to sleep. Thus they did several days and 
nights. Then they sang: 

Behold ye how these Crystal streams do glide 
(To comfort Pilgrims) by the Highway side; 

The MeadoJi>s green, besides their fragrant smell. 

Yield dainties for them: And he that can tell 
What pleasant Fruit, yea Leaves, these Trees do yield, 

Will soon sell all, that he may buy this Field. 

So when they were disposed to go on (for they were not, as yet, at 
their Joumey^s end) they eat and drank, and departed. 

, Now I beheld in my Dream, that they had not journied far, but the 
River and the way, for a time, parted. At which they were not a 
little sorry, yet they durst not go out of the way. Now the way from 
the River was rough, and their feet tender by reason of their Travels: 
So the soul of the Pilgrims Ji>as much discouraged, because of the way. 
Wherefore still as they went on, they wished for better way. Now a 
little before them, there was on the left hand of the Road, a cMeadow, 
and a Stile to go over into it, and that Meadow is called By-Path- 
Meadow. Then said Christian to his fellow. If this Meadow lieth 
along by our way side, lets go over into it. Then he went to the 
Stile to see, and behold a Path lay along by the way on the other side 
of the fence. ^Tis according to my wish said Christian, here is the 
easiest going; come good Hopeful, and let us go over. 

Hope. But how if this Path should lead us out of the way ? 

Chr. That^s not like, said the other; look, doth it not go along by 
the way side ? So Hopeful, being perswaded by his fellow, went af¬ 
ter him over the Stile. When they were gone over, and were got 
into the Path, they found it very easy for their feet; and withal, they 
looking before them, espied a Man walking as they did, (and his name 
was Vain confidence) so they called after him, and asked him whither 
that way led ? he said. To the Ccelestial Gate. Look, said Christian, 
did not I tell you so ? by this you may see we are right. So they fol¬ 
lowed, and he went before them. But behold the night came on, and 

124 







































They went on their way to a pleasant River^ which David the King called the River of God; 

but John, the River of the water of life. 























































































































































me a merciful Brother. But we must not stand thus; let^s try to 
go back again. 

Hope. But good Brother let me go before* 

Chr. No^ if you please, let me go first; that if there be any dan¬ 
ger, I may be first therein, because by my means we are both gone 
out of the way. 

Hope. No, said Hopeful, you shall not go first, for your mind being 
troubled, may lead you out of the iPDay again* Then for their encour¬ 
agement, they heard the voice of one saying. Let thine heart be 
towards the High-way, even the way that thou wentest, turn again* 
But by this time the Waters were greatly risen, by reason of which, 
the way of going back was very dangerous. (Then I thought that it 
is easier going out of the way when we are in, than going in when we 
are out.) Yet they adventured to go back; but it was so dark, and 
the flood was so high, that in their going back, they had like to have 
been drowned nine or ten times. 

Neither could they, with all the skill they had, get again to the Stile 
that night. Wherefore, at last, lighting under a little shelter, they sat 
down there till the day brake; but being weary, they fell asleep. Now 
there was not far from the place where they lay, a Castle, called 
Doubting-Castle, the owner whereof was Giant Despair, and it was 
in his grounds they now were sleeping; wherefore he getting up 
in the morning early, and walking up and down in his Fields, caught 
Christian and Hopeful asleep in his grounds. Then with a grim and 
surly voice he bid them awake, and asked them whence they were ? 
and what they did in his grounds ? They told him, they were 
Pilgrims, and that they had lost their way. Then said the Giant, You 
have this night trespassed on me, by trampling in, and lying on my 
grounds, and therefore you must go along with me. So they were 
forced to go, because he was stronger than they. They also had but 
little to say, for they knew themselves in a fault. The Giant therefore 
drove them before him, and put them into his Castle, into a very dark 
Dungeon, nasty and stinking to the spirit of these two men. Here then 
they lay, from Wednesday morning till Saturday night, without one bit 
of bread, or drop of drink, or any light, or any to ask how they did. 
They were therefore here in evil case, and were far from friends and 
acquaintance. Now in this place, Christian had double sorrow, be- 

127 





























cause ^twas through his unadvised haste that they were brought into 
this distress. 

Now Giant Despair had a Wife, and her name was Diffidence* 
So when he was gone to bed, he told his Wife what he had done, 
to wit, that he had taken a couple of Prisoners, and cast them 
into his Dungeon, for trespassing on his grounds. Then he asked 
her also what he had best to do further to them. So she asked 
him what they were, whence they came, and whither they were 
bound; and he told her: then she counselled him, that when he 
arose in the morning, he should beat them, without any mercy. 
So when he arose, he getteth him a grievous Crab-tree Cudgel, 
and goes down into the Dungeon to them; and there, first falls to 
rateing of them as if they were dogs, although they gave him 
never a word of distaste; then he falls upon them, and beats them 
fearfully, in such sort, that they were not able to help themselves, 
or to turn them upon the floor. This done, he withdraws and 
leaves them, there to condole their misery, and to mourn under 
their distress. So all that day they spent the time in nothing but 
sighs and bitter lamentations. The next night she talking with 
her Husband about them further, and understanding that they were 
yet alive, did advise him to counsel them, to make away themselves. 
So when morning was come, he goes to them in a surly manner, as 
before, and perceiving them to be very sore with the stripes that he 
had given them the day before, he told them, that since they were 
never like to come out of that place, their only way would be, forth¬ 
with to make an end of themselves, either with Knife, Halter, or 
Poison: For why, said he, should you chuse life, seeing it is attended 
with so much bitterness. But they desired him to let them go; with 
that he looked ugly upon them, and rushing to them, had doubtless 
made an end of them himself, but that he fell into one of his fits; (for 
he sometimes in sun-shine weather fell into fits) and lost (for a time) 
the use of his hand: wherefore he withdrew, and left them, (as before) 
to consider what to do. Then did the Prisoners consult between 
themselves, whether ^twas best to take his counsel or no: and thus 
they began to discourse. 

Chr. Brother, said Christian, what shall we do ? the life that we 
now live is miserable; for my part I know not whether is best, to live 

128 































17 


Giant Despair. 
































































































































thus, or to die out of hand ? My soul chooseth strangling rather than 
life; and the Grave is more easy for me than this EXingeon, Shall 
we be ruled by the Giant ? 

Hope. Indeed our present condition is dreadfuU and death would 
be far more welcome to me than thus for ever to abide. But yet 
let us consider^ the Lord of the Country to which we are going, 
hath said. Thou shalt do no murther, no not to another mans 
person; much more then are "tPe forbidden to take his counsel to 
kill ourseh>es. Besides, he that kills another, cannot but commit 
murder upon his body; but for one to kill himself, is to kill body 

and soul at once. And 
moreover, my Brother, 
thou talkest of ease in 
the Grave; but hast thou 
forgotten the Hell, 
whither for certain the 
murderers go ? for no 
murderer hath eternal 
life, etc* And, let us 
consider again, that all 
the Law is not in the 
hand of Giant Despair. 
Others, so far as I can 
understand, have been 
taken by him, as well 
as we; and yet have 
escaped out of his hand. 
Who knoJPs but that 
God that made the world 
may cause that Giant 
Despair may die; or 
that, at some time or 
other he may forget to 
lock us in; or, but he may 
in short time have an¬ 
other of his fits before 



He caught Christian and Hopeful asleep ir 


his grounds. 
130 




















































through, ^nd art thou now nothing but fear ? TTiou seest that I am 
in the Dungeon with thee, a far weaker man by nature than thou art: 
also this Giant has wounded me as well as thee, and hath also cut off 
the Bread and Water from my mouth; and with thee I mourn without 
the light: but let's exercise a little more patience, ^T^emember how 
thou playedst the man at Vanity Fair, and wast neither afraid of the 
Chain nor Cage; nor yet of bloody Death; wherefore let us {at least 
to avoid the shame, that becomes not a Christian to be found in) bear 
up with patience as well as yt)e can. 

Now night being come again, and the Giant and his Wife being in 
bed, she asked him concerning the Prisoners, and if they had taken 
his counsel: To which he replied. They are sturdy Rogues, they 
chuse rather to bear all hardship than to make away themselves. 
Then said she. Take them into the Castle-yard to morrow, and show 
them the Bones and Skulls of those that thou hast already dispatch^; 
and make them believe, eVe a week comes to an end, thou also wilt 
tear them in pieces, as thou hast done their fellows before them. 

So when the morning was come, the Giant goes to them again, and 
takes them into the Castle-yard, and shews them as his Wife had 
bidden him. These, said he, were Pilgrims as you are, once, and 
they trespassed in my grounds as you have done; and when I thought 
fit, I tore them in pieces; and so within ten days I will do you. Go 
get you down to your Den again; and with that he beat them all the 
way thither. They lay therefore all day on Saturday in a lamentable 
case, as before. Now when night was come, and when Mrs. Diffi¬ 
dence and her Husband, the Giant, were got to bed, they began to 
renew their discourse of their Prisoners: and withal, the old Giant 
wondered, that he could neither by his blows, nor counsel, bring them 
to an end. And with that his Wife replied, I fear, said she, that they 
live in hope that some will come to relieve them, or that they have 
pick-locks about them; by the means of which they hope to escape. 
And, sayest thou so, my dear ? said the Giant, I will therefore search 
them in the morning. 

Well, on Saturday about midnight they began to pray, and continued 
in Prayer till almost break of day. 

Now a little before it was day, good Christian, as one half amazed, 
brake out in this passionate Speech, What a fool, quoth he, am I thus 





















That gate, as it opened, made such a creaking, that it waked Giant Despair, who hastily rising 
to pursue his Prisoners, felt his Limbs to fail. 
















to tie in a. stinking Dungeon, when I may as welt walk at liberty ! I 
ha'be a Key in my bosom, called Promise, that %?ill, I am persuaded, 
open any Lock in Doubting Castle. Then said Hopeful, That^s good 
news; good Brother pluck it out of thy bosom and try. 

Then Christian pulled it out of his bosom, and began to try at the 
Dungeon door, whose bolt (as he turned the Key) gave back, and the 
door flew open with ease, and Christian and Hopeful both came out. 
Then he went to the outward door that leads into the Castle yard, 
and with his Key opened the door also. After he went to the Iron 
Gate, for that must be opened too, but that Lock went damnable hard, 
yet the Key did open it; then they thrust open the Gate to make their 
escape with speed, but that Gate, as it opened, made such a creaking, 
that it waked Giant Despair, who hastily rising to pursue his Prison¬ 
ers, felt his Limbs to fail, for his fits took him again, so that he could 
by no means go after them. Then they went on, and came to the 
King^s high-way again, and so were safe, because they were out of his 
Jurisdiction. 

Now when they were gone over the Stile, they began to contrive 
with themselves what they should do at that Stile, to prevent those 
that should come after, from falling into the hands of Giant Despair* 
So they consented to erect there a Pillar, and to engrave upon the side 
thereof Over this Stile is the Way to Doubting-Castle, which is kept 
by Giant Despair, who despiseth the King of the Coelestial Country, 
and seeks to destroy his holy Pilgrims. Many therefore that followed 
after, read what was written, and escaped the danger. This done, they 
sang as follows: 

Out of the way we went, and then we found 
What 'twas to tread upon forbidden ground: 

And let them that come after have a care. 

Lest heedlessness makes them, as we, to fare: 

Lest they, for trespassing, his prisoners are. 

Whose Castle's Doubting, and whose name's Despair. 

They went then, till they came to the Delectable Mountains, which 
Mountains belong to the Lord of that Hill, of which we have spoken 
before; so they went up to the Mountains, to behold the Gardens and 
Orchards, the Vineyards, and Fountains of water; where also they 
drank, and washed themselves, and did freely eat of the Vineyards. 

134 

























































of them that begin to 
come hither, do shew 
their face on these 
Mountains. But 
when the Shepherds 
heard their answers, 
being pleased there¬ 
with, they looked 
very lovingly upon 
them; and said. Wel¬ 
come to the detectable 
cMountains* 

The Shepherds, I 
say, whose names 
were Knowledge, Ex¬ 
perience, Watchful, 
and Sincere, took 
them by the hand, 
and had them to their 
Tents, and made them 
partake of that which 
was ready at present. 

The top of an Hill called Error. They Said moreOVer, 

We would that you should stay here a while, to be acquainted with us, 
and yet more to solace yourselves with the good of these delectable 
Mountains. They told them. That they were content to stay; and so 
they went to their rest that night, because it was very late. 

Then I saw in my Dream that in the morning the Shepherds called 
up Christian and Hopeful to walk with them upon the Mountains. So 
they went forth with them, and walked a while, having a pleasant 
prospect on every side. Then said the Shepherds one to another. 
Shall we shew these Pilgrims some wonders? So when they had 
concluded to do it, they had them first to the top of an Hill called Error, 
which was very steep on the furthest side, and bid them look down to 
the bottom. So Christian and Hopeful lookt down, and saw at the 
bottom several men dashed all to pieces by a fall that they had from 







































the top. Then said Christian, What meaneth this ? The Shepherds 
answered; Have you not heard of them that were made to err, by 
hearkening to Hymeneus and Philetus, as concerning the Faith of the 
Resurrection of the Body? They answered, Yes. Then said the 
Shepherds, Those that you see lie dashed in pieces at the bottom of 
this Mountain, are they: and they have continued to this day un¬ 
buried (as you see) for an example to others to take heed how they 
clamber too high, or how they come too near the brink of this 
Mountain. 

Then I saw that they had them to the top of another Mountain, 
and the name of that is Caution ; and bid them look afar off. Which 
when they did, they perceived as they thought, several men walking 
up and down among the Tombs that were there. And they perceived 
that the men were blind, because they stumbled sometimes upon the 
Tombs, and because they could not get out from among them. Then 
said Christian, What means this ? 

The Shepherds then answered. Did you not see a little below these 
Mountains a Stile that led into a Meadow on the left hand of this 
way? They answered. Yes. Then said the Shepherds, From that 
Stile there goes a path that leads directly to Doubting-Castle, which is 
kept by Giant Despair; and these men (pointing to them among the 
Tombs) came once on Pilgrimage, as you do now, even till they came 
to that same Stile* And because the right way was rough in that 
place, they chose to go out of it into that Meadow, and there were 
taken by Giant Despair, and cast into Doubting-Castle; where, after 
they had a while been kept in the Dungeon, he at last did put out their 
eyes, and led them among those Tombs, where he has left them to 
wander to this very day; that the saying of the wise Man might be 
fulfilled. He that ivandereth out of the <u}ay of understanding shall re¬ 
main in the Congregation of the dead* Then Christian and Hopeful 
looked one upon another, with tears gushing out; but yet said nothing 
to the Shepherds. 

Then I saw in my Dream, that the Shepherds had them to an¬ 
other place, in a bottom, where was a door in the side of an Hill; 
and they opened the door, and bid them look in. They looked in 
therefore, and saw that within it was very dark, and smoaky; they 

137 


18 































They perceived several men walking tip and down among the Tombs that were there. 
































































































































































































































































































also thought that they heard there a rumbling noise as of fire, and 
a cry of some tormented, and that they smelt the scent of Brimstone. 
Then said Christiarit What means this ? The Shepherds told them, 
saying, this is a By-way to Hell, a way that Hypocrites go in at; 
namely, such as sell their Birth-right, with Esaa: such as sell their 
Master, with Judas: such as blaspheme the Gospel, with Alexander: 
and that lie and dissemble, with Ananias and Sapphira his wife. 

Hope. Then said Hopeful to the Shepherds, I perceive that these 
had on them^ dt>en every one, a shew of Pilgrimage as we have now; 
had they not ? 

Shep. Yes, and held it a long time too. 

Hope. How far might they go on Pilgrimage in their day^ since they 
notwithstanding were thus miserably cast away ? 

Shep. Some further, and some not so far as these Mountains. 

Then said the Pilgrims one to another. We had need cry to the 
Strong for strength* 

Shep. Ay, and you will have need to use it when you have it, too. 

By this time the Pilgrims had a desire to go forwards, and the Shep¬ 
herds a desire they should; so they walked together towards the 
end of the Mountains. Then said the Shepherds one to another. Let 
us here shew to the Pilgrims the Gates of the Ccelestial City, if they 
have skill to look through our Perspective Glass. The Pilgrims 
then lovingly accepted the motion: so they had them to the top of an 
high Hill, called Clear, and gave them their Glass to look. Then they 
essayed to look, but the remembrance of that last thing that the Shep¬ 
herds had shewed them made their hand shake, by means of which 
impediment they could not look steadily through the Glass; yet they 
thought they saw something like the Gate, and also some of the Glory 
of the place. 

Thus by the Shepherds, Secrets are reveaVd, 

Which from all other men are kept conceal*d: 

Come to the Shepherds then, if you would see 
Things deep, things hid, and that mysterious be* 

When they were about to depart, one of the Shepherds gave them a 
note of the way. Another of them bid them beware of the flatterer. 
The third, bid them take heed that they sleep not upon the Inchanted 































Ground, and the fourth, bid them God speed. 

Dream. 

And I slept, and dreamed again, and saw the same two Pilgrims 
going down the Mountains along the High-way towards the City. 
Now a little below these Mountains, on the left hand, lieth the Coun¬ 
try of Conceit, from which Country there comes into the way in which 
the Pilgrims walked, a little crooked Lane. Here therefore they met 
with a very brisk Lad, that came out of that Country; and his name 
was Ignorance, So Christian asked him. From 'what parts he came ? 
and whither he was going ? 

Ign. Sir, I was born in the Country that lieth off there, a little on 
the left hand; and I am going to the Coelestial City. 

Chr. But how do you think to gzt in at the Gate, for you may find 
some difficulty there ? 

Ign. As other good People do, said he. 

Chr. But Jphat have you to shew at that Gate, that may cause 
that the Gate should be opened to you ? 

Ign. I know my Lords will, and I have been a good liver, I pay 





































































strong Cords, and were carrying of him back to the door that they 
saw in the side of the Hill. Now good Christian began to tremble, 
and so did Hopeful his Companion: yet as the Devils led away the 
man, Christian looked to see if he knew him, and he thought it might 
be one Turn-aJPay that dwelt in the HoJPn of Apostacy* But he did 
not perfectly see his face, for he did hang his head like a Thief that is 
found. But being gone past. Hopeful looked after him, and espied on 
his back a Paper with this Inscription, Wanton Professor^ and damna¬ 
ble Apostate. Then said Christian to his Fellow, Now I call to 
remembrance that which was told me of a thing that happened to a 
good man hereabout. The name of the man was Little-Faith, but 
a good man, and he dwelt in the Town of Sincere. The thing was 
this; at the entering in of this passage there comes down from Broad- 
way-gate a Lane called Dead-man"s-lane; so called, because of the 
Murders that are commonly done there. And this Little-Faith going 
on Pilgrimage, as we do now, chanced to sit down there and slept. 
Now there happened, at that time, to come down that Lane from 
Broad-way-gate three Sturdy Rogues, and their names were Faint¬ 
heart, Mistrust, and Guilt, (three brothers) and they espying Little- 
Faith where he was, came galloping up with speed. Now the good 
man was just awaked from his sleep, and was getting up to go on his 
Journey. So they came all up to him, and with threatening Language 
bid him stand. At this. Little-faith lookt as white as a Clout, and 
had neither power to fight nor fly. Then said Faint-heart, Deliver 
thy Purse; but he making no haste to do it, (for he was loth to 
lose his Money,) Mistrust ran up to him, and thrusting his hand 
into his Pocket, pulled out thence a bag of Silver. Then he cried 
out. Thieves, thieves. With that. Guilt with a great Club that was 
in his hand, strook Little-Faith on the head, and with that blow 
feird him flat to the ground, where he lay bleeding as one that 
would bleed to death. All this while the Thieves stood by: but at 
last, they hearing that some were upon the Road, and fearing lest 
it should be one Great-grace that dwells in the City of Good-confidence, 
they betook themselves to their heels, and left this good man to shift 
for himself. Now after a while Little-faith came to himself, and get¬ 
ting up, made shift to scrabble on his way. This was the story. 

Hope. But did they take from him all that el?er he had ? 

Chr. No : the place where his Jewels were, they never ransacked, 

142 










so those he kept still; but as, I was told, the good man was much 
afflicted for his loss. For the Thieves got most of his spending 
Money. That which they got not (as I said) were Jewels, also he 
had a little odd Money left, but scarce enough to bring him to his 
Journeys end; nay, (if I was not mis-informed) he was forced to beg 
as he went, to keep himself alive, (for his Jewels he might not sell.) 
But beg, and do what he could, he went (as we say) with many a 
hungry belly, the most part of the rest of the way. 

Hope. But is it not a wonder they got not from him his Certificate, 
by Jtfhich he was to receive his admittance at the Ccelestial gate ? 

Chr. ^Tis a wonder, but they got not that: though they mist it not 
through any good cunning of his, for he being dismayed with their 
coming upon him, had neither power nor skill to hide any thing: so 
^twas more by good Providence than by his endeavour, that they mist 
of that good thing* 

Hope. But it must needs be a comfort to him, that they got not this 
Jewel from him* 

Chr. It might have been great comfort to him, had he used it as he 
should; but they that told me the story, said. That he made but little 
use of it all the rest of the way; and that because of the dismay that 
he had in their taking away of his Money: indeed he forgot it a great 
part of the rest of the Journey; and besides, when at any time, it 
came into his mind, and he began to be comforted therewith, then 
would fresh thoughts of his loss come again upon him, and those 
thoughts would swallow up all. 

Hope. Alas poor Man I this could not but be a great gnef unto him* 

Chr. Grief! Ay, a grief indeed, would it not have been so to any of 
us, had we been used as he, to be robbed and wounded too, and that 
in a strange place, as he was? ^Tis a wonder he did not die with 
grief, poor heart! I was told, that he scattered almost all the rest of 
the way with nothing but doleful and bitter complaints. Telling also 
to all that over-took him, or that he over-took in the way as he went, 
where he was robbed, and how; who they were that did it, and what 
he lost; how he was wounded, and that he hardly escaped with life. 

Hope. But 'tis a Icponder that his necessities did not put him upon 
selling, or pawning some of his Jewels, that he might have wherewith 
to relieve himself in his Journey* 

Chr. Thou talkest like one upon whose head is the Shell to this very 

143 



















There happened, at that time, to come down that Lane from Broad-way-gate three Sturdy Rogues, and their names were Faint-heart, Mistrust, and Guilt 
















































































































































































































































day: For what should he pawn them? or to whom should he sell 
them ? In all that Country where he was Robbed, his Jewels were not 
accounted of, nor did he want that relief which could from thence be 
administred to him; besides, had his Jewels been missing at the Gate 
of the Ccelestial City, he had (and that he knew well enough) been 
excluded from an Inheritance there; and that would have been worse 
to him than the appearance and villany of ten thousand Thieves. 

Hope. Why art thou so tart my Brother ? Esau sold his Birth¬ 
right, and that for a mess of Pottage; and that Birth-right "tPas 
his greatest Jeyt)el; and if he, why might not Little-Faith do so 
too ? 

Chr. Esau did sell his Birth-right indeed, and so do many besides; 
and by so doing, exclude themselves from the chief blessing, as also 
that Caitiff did. But you must put a difference betwixt Esau and 
Little-faith, and also betwixt their Estates. Esau's Birth-right was 
typical, but Little-faith's Jewels were not so. Esau's belly was his 
God, but Little-faith's belly was not so. Esau's want lay in his fleshly 
appetite. Little-faith's did not so. Besides, Esau could sec no further 
than to the fulfilling of his Lusts, For I am at the point to die, said he, 
and what good will this Birth-right do me ? But Little-faith though 
it was his lot to have but a little faith, was by his little faith kept from 
such extravagances; and made to see and prize his Jewels more, than 
to sell them, as Esau did his Birth-right. You read not any where 
that Esau had faith, no not so much as a little. Therefore no mar¬ 
vel, if where the flesh only bears sway (as it will in that Man where 
no faith is to resist) if he sells his Birth-right, and his Soul and all, and 
that to the Devil of Hell; for it is with such, as it is with the Ass, 
Who in her occasions cannot be turned away* When their minds are 
set upon their Lusts, they will have them whatever they cost. But 
Little-faith was of another temper, his mind was on things Divine; 
his livelihood was upon things that were Spiritual, and from above. 
Therefore to what end should he that is of such a temper sell his 
Jewels, (had there been any that would have bought them) to fill his 
mind with empty things ? Will a man give a penny to fill his belly 
with hay ? or can you perswadc the Turtle-dove to live upon Carrion, 
like the Crow ? Though faithless ones, can for carnal Lusts, pawn, 
or mortgage, or sell what they have, and themselves outright to boot; 


19 

































































































stir them^ when by these assaulted; and yet, that notwithstanding, 
they had their Coats soundly brushed by them. Peter upon a time 
would go try what he could do; but, though some do say of him that 
he is the Prince of the Apostles, they handled him so, that they made 
him at last afraid of a sorry Girl. 

Besides, their King is at their Whistle, he is never out of hearing; 
and if at any time they be put to the worst, he, if possible, comes in to 
help them. And of him it is said. The Sword of him that layeth at 
him cannot hold the Spear, the Dart, nor the Habergeon. He es- 
teemeth Iron as Straw, and Brass as rotten Wood. The Arrow can¬ 
not make him flie. Slingstones are turned with him into stubble. 
Darts are counted as stubble, he laugheth at the shaking of a Spear. 
What can a man do in this case? ^Tis true, if a man could at every 
turn have Job's Horse, and had skill and courage to ride him, he 
might do notable things. For his neck is clothed with Thunder, he 
will not be afraid as the Grashopper, the glory of his Nostrils is terri¬ 
ble, he paweth in the Valley, rejoyceth in his strength, and goeth out 
to meet the armed men. He mocketh at fear, and is not affrighted, 
neither turneth back from the Sword. The quiver rattleth against 
him, the glittering Spear, and the shield. He swalloweth the ground 
with fierceness and rage, neither believeth he that it is the sound 
of the Trumpet. He saith among the Hrumpets, Ha, ha ; and he 
smelleth the Battel afar off, the thundring of the Captains, and the 
shoutings. 

But for such footmen as thee and I are, let us never desire to meet 
with an enemy, nor vaunt as if we could do better, when we hear of 
others that they have been foiled, nor be tickled at the thoughts of our 
own manhood, for such commonly come by the worst when tried. 
Witness Peter, of whom I made mention before. He would swagger, 
Ay he would: He would, as his vain mind prompted him to say, do 
better, and stand more for his Master, than all men: But who so 
foiled, and run down by these Villains, as he ? 

When therefore we hear that such Robberies are done on the King^s 
High-way, two things become us to do; first to go out Harnessed, 
and to be sure to take a Shield with us. For it was for want of that, 
that he that laid so lustily at Leviathan could not make him yield. For 
indeed, if that be wanting, he fears us not at all. Therefore he that 

148 























































At last they espied a shining One coming towards them^ with a whip of small cord in his hand. 





























































































































seemed withal to lie as straight as the way which they should go; 
and here they knew not which of the two to take, for both seemed 
straight before them; therefore here they stood still to consider. And 
as they were thinking about the way, behold a man black of flesh, but 
covered with a very light Robe, came to them and asked them. Why 
they stood there ? They answered. They were going to the Coelestial 
City, but knew not which of these ways to take. Follow me, said the 
man, it is thither that I am going. So they followed him in the way 
that but now came into the road, which by degrees turned, and turned 
them so from the City that they desired to go to, that in little time their 
faces were turned away from it; yet they followed him. But by and 
by, before they were aware, he led them both within the compass of a 
Net, in which they were both so entangled that they knew not what 
to do; and with that, the white robe fell off the black man's back; 
then they saw where they were. Wherefore there they lay crying 
sometime, for they could not get themselves out. 

Chr. Then said Christian to his fellow. Now do I see my self in an 
error. Did not the Shepherds bid us beware of the flatterers ? As is 
the saying of the Wise man, so we have found it this day: A man 
that flattereth his Neighbour, spreadeth a Net for his feet* 

Hope. They also gave us a note of directions about the way, for 
our more sure finding thereof: but therein we have also forgotten to 
read, and have not kept ourselves from the Paths of the destroyer. 
Here David was wiser than we; for saith he. Concerning the 't^orks 
of men, by the word of thy lips, I have kept me from the Paths of the 
destroyer* Thus they lay bewailing themselves in the Net. At last 
they espied a shining One coming towards them, with a whip of small 
cord in his hand. When he was come to the place where they were. 
He asked them whence they came ? and what they did there ? They 
told him. That they were poor Pilgrims going to Sion, but were led 
out of their way, by a black man, cloathed in white, who bid us, said 
they, follow him; for he was going thither too. Then said he with 
the Whip, it is Flatterer, a false Apostle, that hath transformed him¬ 
self into an Angel of light. So he rent the Net, and let the men out. 
Then said he to them. Follow me, that I may set you in your way 
again; so he led them back to the way, which they had left to follow 




































the Flatterer. Then he asked them, saying, Where did you lie the last 
night ? They said, with the Shepherds upon the delectable Mountains. 
He asked them then. If they had not of them Shepherds a note of direc¬ 
tion for the way ? They answered. Yes. But did you, said he, when 
you was at a stand, pluck out and read your note ? They answered. 
No. He asked them why? They said they forgot. He asked, 
moreover, If the Shepherds did not bid them beware of the Flatterer ? 
They answered. Yes; But we did not imagine, said they, that this 
fine-spoken man had been he. 

Then I saw in my Dream, that he commanded them to lie do'li>n ; 
which when they did, he chastised them sore, to teach them the good 
way wherein they should walk; and as he chastised them, he said. 
As many as I love^ I rebuke and chasten ; be zealous therefore^ and 
repent. This done, he bids them go on their way, and take good heed 
to the other directions of the Shepherds. So they thanked him for all 
his kindness, and went softly along the right way. 

Come hither, you that walk along the way ; 

See how the Pilgrims fare, that go astray ! 

They catched are in an intangling Net, 

^Cause they good Counsel lightly did forget: 

^Tis true, they rescued were, but yet you see 
They're scourg'd to boot: Let this your caution be. 

Now after a while, they perceived afar off, one coming softly and 
alone, all along the High-way to meet them. Then said Christian 
to his fellow. Yonder is a man with his back toward Sion, and he is 
coming to meet us. 

Hope. I see him, let us take heed to ourselves now, lest he should 
prove a Flatterer also. So he drew nearer and nearer, and at last 
came up unto them. His name was Atheist, and he asked them 
whither they were going? 

Chr. We are going to the cMount Sion. 

Then Atheist fell into a very great Laughter. 

Chr. What is the meaning of your Laughter ? 

Atheist. I laugh to see what ignorant persons you are, to take 
upon you so tedious a Journey; and yet are like to have nothing but 
your travel for your pains. 































Chr. Why man ? Do you think •we shall not be received ? 

Atheist. Received! There is no such place as you Dream of^ in 
all this World. 

Chr. But there is in the World to come* 

Atheist. When I was at home in mine own Country I heard as 
you now affirm, and from that hearing went out to see, and have 
been seeking this City this twenty years : but find no more of it, than 
I did the first day I set out. 

Chr. We ha'be both heard and believe that there is such a place to 
be found* 

Atheist. Had not I, when at home, believed, I had not come thus 
far to seek. But finding none, (and yet I should, had there been such 
a place to be found, for I have gone to seek it further than you) I 
am going back again, and will seek to refresh myself with the things 
that I then cast away, for hopes of that which I now see is not. 

Chr. Then said Christian 
to Hopeful, his Fellow, Is it 
true "tPhich this man hath 
said ? 

Hope. Take heed, he is one 
of the Flatterers; remember 
what it hath cost us once al¬ 
ready for our harkning to such 
kind of Fellows. What! no 
Mount Sion! Did we not 
see from the delectable Moun¬ 
tains the Gate of the City? 

Also, are we not now to 
walk by Faith? Let us go 
on, said Hopeful, lest the 
man ‘with the Whip over¬ 
takes us again. 

You should have taught me 
thatLesson,whichIwill round 
you in the ears withal; Cease, 
my son, to hear the Instruc¬ 
tion that causeth to err from 




His Name was Atheist. 


20 































the words of knoh^ledge, I say, my Brother, cease to hear him, and 
let us believe to the saving of the Soul. 

Chr. cMy Brother, I did not put the question to thee, for that 
I doubted of the truth of our belief myself: but to prove thee, and 
to fetch from thee a fruit of the honesty of thy heart. As for this 
man, I know that he is blinded by the god of this World: Let thee 
and I go on, knowing that we have belief of the Truth, and no lie is 
of the Truth, 

Hope. Now do I rejoyce in the hope of the Glory of God: So 
they turned away from the man; and he, laughing at them, went 
his way. 

I saw then in my Dream, that they went till they came into a cer¬ 
tain Country, whose Air naturally tended to make one drowsy, if he 
came a stranger into it. And here Hopeful began to be very dull 
and heavy of sleep, wherefore he said unto Christian, I do now begin 
to grow so drowsy that I can scarcely hold up mine eyes; let us lie 
down here and take one Nap. 

Chr. By no means, said the other, lest steeping, we never alq>ake 
more, 

Hope. Why my Brother? sleep is sweet to the Labouring man; 
we may be refreshed if we take a Nap. 

Chr. Do you not remember that one of the Shepherds bid us be- 
yt>are of the Inchanted ground ? He meant by that, that we should 
beware of sleeping ; wherefore let us not sleep as do others, but let 
us watch and be sober, 

Hope. I acknowledge myself in a fault, and had I been here alone, 
I had by sleeping run the danger of death. I see it is true that the 
wise man saith. Two are better than one. Hitherto hath thy Com¬ 
pany been my mercy; and thou shalt have a good reward for thy 
labour, 

Chr. Now then, said Christian, to prevent drowsiness in this place, 
let us fall into good discourse, 

Hope. With all my heart, said the other. 

Chr. Where shall we begin ? 

Hope. Where God began with us. But do you begin, if you please. 

When Saints do sleepy grow, let them come hither. 

And hear how these two Pilgrims talk together: 


m 

















Do you not remember that one of the Shepherds bid us beware of the Inchanted g:round 
























Yeat let them learn of them, in any wise, 

Thus to keep ope their drowsy slumbering eyes* 

Saints* fellowship, if it be managed well. 

Keeps them awake, and that in spite of hell* 

Chr. Then Christian began and said, / will ask you a question* 
HoJP came you to think at first of doing as you do now ? 

Hope. Do you mean, How came I at first to look after the good of 
my Soul ? 

Chr. Yes, that is my meaning* 

Hope. I continued a great while in the delight of those things which 
were seen and sold at our fair ; things which, as I believe now, would 
have (had I continued in them still) drowned me in perdition and 
destruction. 

Chr. What things were they ? 

Hope. All the Treasures and Riches of the World. Also I de¬ 
lighted much in Rioting, Revelling, Drinking, Swearing, Lying, 
Uncleanness, Sabbath-breaking, and what not, that tended to destroy 
the Soul. But I found at last, by hearing and considering of things 
that are Divine, which indeed I heard of you, as also of beloved Faith¬ 
ful, that was put to death for his Faith and good-living in Vanity-fair, 
That the end of these things is death* And that for these things* sake, 
the wrath of God cometh upon the children of disobedience* 

Chr. And did you presently fall under the power of this con¬ 
viction ? 

Hope. No, I was not willing presently to know the evil of sin, nor 
the damnation that follows upon the commission of it, but endeavoured, 
when my mind at first began to be shaken with the word, to shut mine 
eyes against the light thereof. 

Chr. But what was the cause of your carrying of it thus to the 
first workings of God*s blessed Spirit upon you ? 

Hope. The causes were, I. I was ignorant that this was the work 
of God upon me. I never thought that, by awakenings for sin, God 
at first begins the conversion of a sinner. 2. Sin was yet very sweet to 
my flesh, and I was loth to leave it. 3. I could not tell how to part with 
mine old Companions; their presence and actions were so desirable 
unto me. 4. The hours in which convictions were upon me, were 

156 


































such troublesome and such heart-affrighting hours, that I could not 
bear, no not so much as the remembrance of them upon my heart. 

Chr. Then as it seems t sometimes you got rid of your trouble* 

Hope. Yes verily, but it would come into my mind again, and then 
I should be as bad, nay worse, than I was before. 

Chr. Why^ what Ji^as it that brought your sins to mind again* 

Hope. Many things, as, 

1. If I did but meet a good man in the Streets; or, 

2. If I have heard any read in the Bible; or, 

3. If mine Head did begin to Ake; or, 

4. If I were told that some of my Neighbors were sick; or, 

5. If I heard the Bell toll for some that were dead; or, 

6. If I thought of dying myself; or, 

7. If I heard that sudden death happened to others. 

8. But especially, when I thought of myself, that I must quickly 
come to Judgment. 

Chr. And could you at any time with ease get off the guilt of sin, 
when by any of these Ji?ays it came upon you ? 

Hope. No, not latterly, for then they got faster hold of my Con¬ 
science. And then, if I did but think of going back to sin (though my 
mind was turned against it) it would be double torment to me. 

Chr. And how did you do then ? 

Hope. I thought I must endeavour to mend my life, for else thought 
I, I am sure to be damned. 

Chr. And did you endeavour to mend ? 

Hope. Yes, and fled from, not only my sins, but sinful Com¬ 
pany too; and betook me to Religious Duties, as Praying, Reading, 
weeping for Sin, speaking Truth to my Neighbors, etc. These things 
I did, with many others, too much here to relate. 

Chr. And did you think yourself well then ? 

Hope. Yes, for a while; but at the last my trouble came tumbling 
upon me again, and that over the neck of all my Reformations. 

Chr. How came that about, since you was now Reformed ? 

Hope. There were several things brought it upon me, especially 
such sayings as these; All our righteousnesses are as filthy rags* By 
the works of the Law no man shall be justified* When you have 
done all things, say, we are unprofitable: with many more the like. 

157 


























From whence I began to reason with my self thus: If all my right¬ 
eousnesses are filthy rags^ if by the deeds of the Law, no man can be 
justified; And if, when we have done alU we are yet unprofitable: 
Then ^tis but a folly to think of Heaven by the Law. I further 
thought thus: If a Man runs an 1001. into the Shop-keeper^s debt, and 
after that shall pay for all that he shall fetch; yet his old debt stands 
still in the Book uncrossed, for the which the Shop-keeper may sue 
him, and cast him into Prison till he shall pay the debt. 

Chr. Well, ^nd how did you apply this to yourself? 

Hope. Why, I thought thus with myself: I have by my sins run a 
great way into God^s Book, and that my now reforming will not pay 
off that score; therefore I should think still under all my present 
amendments. But how shall I be freed from that damnation that I have 
brought myself in danger of by my former transgressions ? 

Chr. a very good application: but pray go on, 

Hope. Another thing that hath troubled me, even since my late 
amendments, is, that if I look narrowly into the best of what I do now, 
I still see sin, new sin, mixing itself with the best of that I do. So 
that now I am forced to conclude, that notwithstanding my former 
fond conceits of myself and duties, I have committed sin enough in one 
duty to send me to Hell, though my former life had been faultless. 

Chr. And what did you do then ? 

Hope. Do! I could not tell what to do, till I brake my mind to 
Faithful; for he and I were well acquainted: And he told me. That 
unless I could obtain the righteousness of a man that never had sinned, 
neither mine own, nor all the righteousness of the World could save me. 

Chr. And did you think he spake true ? 

Hope. Had he told me so when I was pleased and satisfied with 
mine own amendments, I had called him Fool for his pains: but now, 
since I see my own infirmity, and the sin that cleaves to my best per¬ 
formance, I have been forced to be of his opinion. 

Chr. But did you think, when at first he suggested it to you, that 
there was such a man to be found, of whom it might justly be said. 
That he nefber committed sin ? 

Hope. I must confess the words at first sounded strangely, but after 
a little more talk and company with him, I had full conviction about it. 

Chr. And did you ask him iPohat man this was, and how you 
must be justified by him ? 






















































Chr. What did you do then ? 

Hope. What! why I could not tell what to do. 

Chr. Had you not thoughts of tea'bing off praying ? 

Hope. Yes, an hundred times, twice told. 

Chr. And lPt>hat was the reason you did not ? 

Hope. I believed that that was true which had been told me; to 
wit That without the righteousness of this Christ, all the World 
could not save me: and therefore thought I with myself. If I leave off, 
I die; and I can but die at the throne of Grace. And withal, this 
came into my mind. If it tarry, wait for it, because it will surely 
come, and "tPill not tarry. So I continued praying until the Father 
shewed me his Son. 

Chr. And how was he revealed unto you ? 

Hope. I did not see him with my bodily eyes, but with the eyes of 
mine understanding; and thus it was. One day I was very sad, 
I think sadder than at any one time in my life; and this sadness was 
through a fresh sight of the greatness and vileness of my sins. And 
as I was then looking for nothing but Hell, and the everlasting dam¬ 
nation of my Soul, suddenly, as I thought, I saw the Lord Jesus look 
down from Heaven upon me, and saying. Believe on the Lord Jesus 
Christ, and thou shalt be saved. 

But I replied. Lord, I am a great, a very great sinner; and he 
answered, cMy grace is sufficient for thee. Then I said. But Lord, 
what is believing ? And then I saw from that saying, [^He that cometh 
to me shall never hunger, and he that believeth on me shall never 
thirst] that believing and coming was all one; and that he that came, 
that is, ran out in his heart and affections after salvation by Christ, he 
indeed believed in Christ. Then the water stood in mine eyes, and 
I asked further. But Lord, may such a great sinner as I am, be indeed 
accepted of thee, and be saved by thee ? And I heard him say. And 
him that cometh to me, I J^ill in no wise cast out. Then I said. But 
how. Lord, must I consider of thee in my coming to thee, that my 
faith may be placed aright upon thee? Then he said, Christ Jesus 
came into the World to saJ^e sinners. He is the end of the Law for 
righteousness to every one that believes. He died for our sins, and 
rose again for our justification. He loJ?ed us, and washed us from our 
sins in his own blood. He is Mediator between God and us. He 
ever lit>eth to make intercession for us. From all which I gathered 





























that I must look for righteousness in his person, and for satisfaction for 
my sins by nis blood; that what he did in obedience to his Father^s 
Law, and in submitting to the penalty thereof, was not for himself, but 
for him that will accept it for his Salvation, and be thankful. And 
now was my heart full of joy, mine eyes full of tears, and mine affections 
running over with love to the Name, People, and Ways of Jesus Christ. 

Chr. This yt>as a Revelation of Christ to your soul indeed* But 
tell me particularly what effect this had upon your spirit* 

Hope. It made me see that all the World, notwithstanding all the 
righteousness thereof, is in a state of condemnation. It made me see 
that God the Father, though he be just, can justly justify the coming 
sinner. It made me greatly ashamed of the vileness of my former life, 
and confounded me with the sense of mine own Ignorance; for there 
never came thought into mine heart before now that shewed me so the 
beauty of Jesus Christ. It made me love a holy life, and long to do 
something for the Honour and Glory of the name of the Lord Jesus. 
Yea I thought, that had I now a thousand gallons of blood in my 
body, I could spill it all for the sake of the Lord Jesus. 

I then saw in my Dream, that Hopeful looked back and saw Igno- 
rancet whom they had left behind, coming after. Lookt said he to 
Christian, how far yonder Youngster loitereth behind* 

Chr. Ay, ay, I see him; he careth not for our Company. 

Hope. But I tro, it would not hal^e hurt him, had he kept pace 
with us hitherto* 

Chr. That^s true, but I warrant you he thinketh otherwise. 

Hope. That I think he doth, but however let us tarry for him* 
So they did. 

Then Christian said to him. Come a^iDay man ; why do you stay so 
behind? 

Ign. I take my pleasure in walking alone, even more a great deal 
than in Company, unless I like it the better. 

Then said Christian to Hopeful (but softly) Did I not tell you, he 
cared not for our Company* But however, come up, and let us talk 
away the time in this solitary place* Then directing his Speech to 
Ignorance, he said. Come, how do you ? how stands it between God 
and your Soul now ? 

Ign. I hope well, for I am always full of good motions that come 

into my mind to comfort me as I walk. 

161 





























Chr. What good motions ? pray tell us, 

Ign. Why, I think of God and Heaven. 

Chr. So do the Devils and damned Souls, 

Ign. But I think of them, and desire them. 

Chr. So do many that are never like to come there: The Soul of 
the Sluggard desires and hath nothing. 

Ign. But I think of them, and leave all for them. 

Chr. That I doubt; for lea'Ping of all is an hard matter, yea a 
harder matter then many are avuare of. But 'it>hy, or by what, art 
thou perswaded that thou hast left all for God and Hea'Pen ? 

Ign. My heart tells me so. 

Chr. The wise man says. He that trusts his own heart is a fool 

Ign. This is spoken of an evil heart, but mine is a good one. 

Chr. But how dost thou prove that ? 

Ign. It comforts me in hopes of Heaven. 

Chr. That may be through its deceitfulness; for a mans heart may 
minister comfort to him in the hopes of that thing for which he yet 
has no ground to hope, 

Ign. But my heart and life agree together, and therefore my hope is 
well grounded. 

Chr. Who told thee that thy heart and life agree together ? 

Ign. My heart tells me so. 

Chr. Ask my Fellow if I be a Thief ► Thy heart tells thee so ! 
Except the word of God beareth witness in this matter, other Testi¬ 
mony is of no value, 

Ign. But is it not a good heart that has good thoughts ? And is 
not that a good life that is according to God's Commandments ? 

Chr. Yes, that is a good heart that hath good thoughts, and that is 
a good life that is according to God's Commandments, But it is one 
thing indeed to haPe these, and another thing only to think so, 

Ign. Pray what count you good thoughts, and a life according to 
God's Commandments ? 

Chr. There are good thoughts of divers kinds, some respecting 
ourselves, some God, some Christ, and some other things, 

Ign. What be good thoughts respecting ourselves ? 

Chr. Such as agree with the Word of God, 

Ign. When does our thoughts of ourselves agree with the Word of God? 
























Ignorance is thy name, and as thy name is, so art thou, 

































Chr. When we pass the same Judgment upon ourselves which the 
Word passes* *To explain myself; the Word of God saith of persons 
in a natural condition^ There is none Righteous, there is none that 
doth good. It saith also. That every imagination of the heart of man 
is only evil, and that continually. And again, The imagination of 
man^s heart is evil from his Youth. Now then, when we think thus 
of ourselves, having sense thereof, then are our thoughts good ones, 
because according to the Word of God* 

Ign. I will never believe that my heart is thus bad. 

Chr. Therefore thou never hadst one good thought concerning thy¬ 
self in thy life* But let me go on : As the Word passeth a Judgment 
upon our HEART, so it passeth a Judgment upon our WA YS; and 
when our thoughts of our HEARTS and WAYS agree JPith the 
Judgment which the Word giveth of both, then are both good, because 
agreeing thereto* 

Ign. Make out your meaning. 

Chr. Why, the Word of God saith. That man^s ways are crooked 
ways, not good, but perverse* It saith. They are naturally out of the 
good way, that they have not known it* Now lg[>hen a man thus 
thinketh of his J^fays, I say when he doth sensibly, and with heart- 
humiliation thus think, then hath he good thoughts of his own ways, 
because his thoughts now agree with the judgment of the Word 
of God* 

Ign. What are good thoughts concerning God ? 

Chr. Even {as I have said concerning ourselves) lPt)hen our thoughts 
J God do agree with what the Word saith of him* And that 
is, when we think of his Being and Attributes as the Word hath 
taught: of which I cannot now discourse at large* But to speak of 
him with reference to us, then we have right thoughts of God, 'tPhen 
ype think that he knoJPs us better than we know ourselves, and can 
see sin in us, when and 'Pphere we can see none in ourselves ; when 
we think he knoJPs our inmost thoughts, and that our heart with 
all its depths is always open unto his eyes* Also when we think 
that all our Righteousness stinks in his Nostrils, and that therefore he 
cannot abide to see us stand before him in any confidence even of all 
our best performances* 

Ign. Do you think that I am such a fool, as to think God can see 

164 






























mm 




no further than I ? or that I would come to God in the best of my 
performances ? 

Chr. Whyt how dost thou think in this matter ? 

Ign. Why, to be short, I think I must believe in Christ for 
Justification. 

Chr. Ho'ti)! think thou must believe in Christy when thou seest 
not thy need of him! *Thou neither seest thy original or actual 
infirmities, but hast such an opinion of thyself, and of what thou 
doest, as plainly renders thee to be one that did never see a necessity 
of Christ's personal righteousness to justify thee before God: How 
then dost thou say, I believe in Christ ? 

Ign. I believe well enough for all that. 

Chr. How doest thou believe ? 

Ign. I believe that Christ died for sinners, and that I shall be justified 
before God from the curse, through his gracious acceptance of my 
obedience to his Law. Or thus, Christ makes my Duties that are Re¬ 
ligious acceptable to his Father by virtue of his Merits; and so shall I 
be justified. 

Chr. Let me give an answer to this confession of thy faith* 

1. Thou believest with a Fantastical Faith, for this faith is no 
where described in the Word* 

2. Thou believest JPith a False Faith, because it taketh Justification 
from the personal righteousness of Christ, and applies it to thy own* 

3. This faith maketh not Christ a Justifier of thy person, but of thy 
actions ; and of thy person for thy actions' sake, which is false* 

4. Therefore this faith is deceitful, even such as yt)ill leave thee 
under wrath, in the day of God Almighty* For true Justifying Faith 
puts the soul (as sensible of its lost condition by the Law) upon fly¬ 
ing for refuge unto Christ's righteousness: (Which righteousness of 
his, is not an act of grace, by which he maketh for Justification thy 
obedience accepted with God, but his personal obedience to the Law 
in doing and suffering for us, what that required at our hands*) This 
righteousness, I say, true faith accepteth, under the skirt of which, 
the soul being shrouded, and by it presented as spotless before God, it 
is accepted, and acquit from condemnation* 

Ign. What! would you have us trust to what Christ in his own 
person has done without us! This conceit would loosen the reins of 

165 

















































h 


3. It begetteth and continucth in the soul a great reverence of God, 
his word, and ways, keeping it tender, and making it afraid to turn 
from them, to the right hand, or to the left, to anything that may dis¬ 
honour God, break its peace, grieve the Spirit, or cause the Enemy to 
speak reproachfully. 

Hope. Well said, I believe you have said the truth. Are we now 
almost got past the enchanted ground ? 

Chr. are you <weary of this discourse ? 

Hope. No verily, but that I would know where we are. 

Chr. We have not now abo'be two miles further to go thereon* 
But let us return to our matter* Now the Ignorant know not that 
such con'hictions that tend to put them in fear, are for their good, and 
therefore they seek to stifle them* 

Hope. How do they seek to stifle them ? 

Chr. \* They think that those fears are wrought by the Devil 
(though indeed they are wrought of God) and thinking so, they resist 
them, as things that directly tend to their overthrow. 2. They also 
think that these fears tend to the spoiling of their faith, (when alas for 
them, poor men that they are! they have none at all) and therefore 
they harden their hearts against them. 3. They presume they ought 
not to fear, and therefore, in despite of them, wax presumptuously con¬ 
fident. 4. They see that these fears tend to take away from them 
their pitiful old self-holiness, and therefore they resist them with all 
their might. 

Hope. I know something of this myself; for before I knew myself 
it was so with me. 

Chr. Well, we will leave at this time our Neighbor Ignorance by 
himself, and fall upon another profitable question* 

Hope. With all my heart, but you shall still begin. 

Chr. Welt then, did you not know about ten years ago, one 
Temporary in your parts, who was a forward man in ^ligion then ? 

Hope. Know him! Yes, he dwelt in Graceless, a Town about 
two miles off of Honesty, and he dwelt next door to one Turn-back* 

Chr. Right, he dwelt under the same roof with him* Well, that 
man was much awakened once; I believe that then he had some sight 
of his sins, and of the wages that was due thereto* 

168 


































Hope. 1 am of your mind, for (my House not being above three 
miles from him) he would ofttimes come to me, and that with many 
tears. Truly I pitied the man, and was not altogether without hope 
of him ; but one may see it is not every one that cries. Lore/, Lord* 
Chr. He told me once. That he ufas resolved to go on Pilgrimage 
as we go now ; but all of a sudden he grew acquainted with one 
Save-self, and then he became a stranger to me* 

Hope. Now since we are talking about him, let us a little enquire 
into the reason of the sudden backsliding of him and such others. 

Chr. It may be 'bery profitable, but do you begin* 

Hope. Well then, there are in my judgment four reasons for it. 

1. Though the Consciences of such men are awakened, yet their 
minds are not changed: therefore when the power of guilt weareth 
away, that which provoked them to be Religious ceaseth. Wherefore 
they naturally turn to their own course again: even as we see the Dog 
that is sick of what he hath eaten, so long as his sickness prevails he 
vomits and casts up all; not that he doth this of a free mind (if we may 
say a Dog has a mind) but because it troubleth his Stomach; but 
now when his sickness is over, and so his Stomach cased, his desires 
being not at all alieniate from his vomit, he turns him about and licks 
up all. And so it is true which is written. The Dog is turned to his 
own bomit again* This, I say, being hot for heaven, by virtue only 
of the sense and fear of the torments of Hell, as their sense of Hell and 
the fears of damnation chills and cools, so their desires for Heaven and 
Salvation cool also. So then it comes to pass that when their guilt 
and fear is gone, their desires for Heaven and Happiness die, and they 
return to their course again. 

2. Another reason is, they have slavish fears that do overmaster 
them. I speak now of the fears that they have of men: For the fear 
of men bringeth a snare* So then, though they seem to be hot for 
Heaven, so long as the flames of Hell are about their ears, yet when 
that terror is a little over, they betake themselves to second thoughts: 
namely, that ^tis good to be wise, and not to run (for they know not 
what) the hazard of losing all; or at least, of bringing themselves into 
unavoidable and unnecessary troubles: and so they fall in with the 
world again. 



22 



















































ee\ 


and glad are they if they can see such things in any that are counted 
honest, that they may the more boldly do it through their example* 

8. After this, they begin to play with little sins openly. 

9. And then, being hardened, they shew themselves as they are. 
Thus being launched again into the gulf of misery, unless a Miracle 
of Grace prevent it, they everlastingly perish in their own deceivings. 

Now I saw in my Dream, that by this time the Pilgrims were got 
over the Inchanted Ground, and entering in the Country of Beulaht 
whose Air was very sweet and pleasant, the way lying directly 
through it, they solaced themselves there for a season. Yea, here 
they heard continually the singing of Birds, and saw every day the 
flowers appear in the earth, and heard the voice of the Turtle in the 
Land. In this Country the Sun shineth night and day; wherefore 
this was beyond the Valley of the Shadow of Deaths and also out of 
the reach of Giant Despair; neither could they from this place so 
much as see Doubting-Castle* Here they were within sight of the 
City they were going to: also here met them some of the Inhabitants 
thereof; for in this 
Land the shining 
Ones commonly 
walked, because it 
was upon the Bor¬ 
ders of Heaven. In 
this Land also the 
contract between 
the Bride and the 
Bridegroom was re¬ 
newed; Yea here, 
as the Bridegroom 
rejoyceth over the 
Bride, so did their 
God rejoyce over 
them* Here they 
had no want of 
Corn and Wine; 
for in this place they 
met with abun- 


Also here met them some of the Inhabitants thereof; for in this 
Land the shining Ones commonly walked. 

171 










CM 























































Here they were within sight of the City they were going to* 











































































































Behold the Gardener stood in the way. 

These men asked the Pilgrims whence they came ? and they told 
them; they also asked them, Where they had lodged, what difficulties, 
and dangers, what comforts and pleasures they had met in the way ? 
and they told them. Then said the men that met them. You have 
but two difficulties more to meet with, and then you are in the City. 

Chnstian then and his Companion asked the men to go along with 
them, so they told them they would; but, said they, you must obtain 
it by your own faith. So I saw in my Dream that they went on 
together till they came in sight of the Gate. 

Now I further saw that betwixt them and the Gate was a River, 
but there was no Bridge to go over, the River was very deep. At the 
sight therefore of this River, the Pilgrims were much stounded; but 
the men that went with them, said. You must go through, or you 
cannot come at the Gate. 

The Pilgrims then began to enquire if there was no other way to 
the Gate; to which they answered. Yes, but there hath not any, save 
two, to wit, Enoch and Elijah, been permitted to tread that path, since 


















































the foundation of the World, nor shall, until the last Trumpet shall 
sound. The Pilgrims, then, especially Christian^ began to dispond in 
his mind, and looked this way and that, but no way could be found 
by them, by which they might escape the River. Then they asked 
the men, if the Waters were all of a depth? They said. No; yet 
they could not help them in that Case, for said they: You shall find it 
deeper or shallower, as you believe in the King of the place* 

They then addressed themselves to the Water; and entring, Chris¬ 
tian began to sink, and crying out to his good friend Hopeful he said, 
I sink in deep Waters, the Billows go over my head, all his Waves 
go over me, Selah* 

Then said the other. Be of good cheer, my Brother, I feel the bot¬ 
tom, and it is good. Then said Christian, Ah my friend, the sorrows 
of death have compassed me about, I shall not see the Land that flows 
with Milk and Honey. And with that, a great darkness and horror 
fell upon Christian, so that he could not sec before him; also here he 
in great measure lost his senses, so that he could neither remember 
nor orderly talk of any of those sweet refreshments that he had met 
with in the way of his Pilgrimage. But all the words that he spake 
still tended to discover that he had horror of mind, and hearty fears 
that he should die in that River, and never obtain entrance in at the 
Gate: here also, as they that stood by perceived, he was much in the 
troublesome thoughts of the sins that he had committed, both since and 
before he began to be a Pilgrim. ^Twas also observed, that he was 
troubled with apparitions of Hobgoblins and Evil Spirits. For ever and 
anon he would intimate so much by words. Hopeful therefore here 
had much ado to keep his Brother's head above water, yea sometimes 
he would be quite gone down, and then ere a while he would rise up 
again half dead. Hopeful also would endeavour to comfort him, say¬ 
ing, Brother, I see the Gate, and men standing by it to receive us. But 
Christian would answer: ^Tis you, ^tis you they wait for, you have 
been Hopeful ever since I knew you. And so have you, said he 
to Christian* Ah Brother, said he, surely if I was right, he would 
now arise to help me; but for my sins he hath brought me into the 
snare, and hath left me. Then said Hopeful, My Brother, you have 
quite forgot the Text, where it^s said of the wicked. There is no band 
in their death, but their strength is firm: they are not troubled as other 


























Hopeful also would endeavour to comfort him, sayingf, Brother, I see the Gate, and men standing by it to receive us. But Christian would 

'Tis you, ^tis you they wait for, you have been Hopeful ever since I knew you. 































































































































































































































m9: 


men, neither are they plagued like other men. These troubles and dis¬ 
tresses that you go through in these Waters, are no sign that God 
hath forsaken you, but are sent to try you, whether you will call 
to mind that which heretofore you have received of his goodness, and 
live upon him in your distresses. 

Then I saw in my Dream, that Christian was in a muse a while; to 
whom also Hopeful added this word. Be of good cheer, Jesus Christ 
maketh thee whole: And with that, Christian brake out with a loud 
voice. Oh, I see him again! and he tells me. When thou passest 
through the waters, I liPill be iPith thee, and through the Rivers, they 
shall not overflow thee. Then they both took courage, and the 
enemy was after that as still as a stone, until they were gone over. 
Christian therefore presently found ground to stand upon; and so it 
followed that the rest of the River was but shallow. Thus they got 
over. Now upon the bank of the River, on the other side, they saw 
the two shining men again, who there waited for them. Wherefore 
being come up out of the River, they saluted them saying. We are 
ministring Spirits, sent forth to minister for those that shall be Heirs 
of Salvation. Thus they went along towards the Gate. Now you 
must note that the City stood upon a mighty hill, but the Pilgrims went 
up that hill with ease, because they had these two men to lead them 
up by the Arms; also they had left their Mortal Garments behind them 
in the River; for though they went in with them, they came out with¬ 
out them. They therefore went up here with much agility and speed, 
though the foundation upon which the City was framed was higher 
than the Clouds. They therefore went up through the regions of the 
Air, sweetly talking as they went, being comforted, because they safely 
got over the River, and had such glorious Companions to attend them. 

The talk they had with the shining Ones, was about the Glory of 
the place, who told them, that the beauty, and glory of it was inex¬ 
pressible. There, said they, is the Mount Sion, the Heavenly Jerusa¬ 
lem, the innumerable company of Angels, and the Spirits of Just men 
made perfect. You are going now, said they, to the Paradise of God, 
wherein you shall see the Tree of Life, and eat of the never-fading 
fruits thereof: and when you come there you shall have white Robes 
given you, and your walk and talk shall be every day with the King, 
even all the days of Eternity. There you shall not see again such 


23 




















things as you saw when you were in the lower Region upon the 
Earth, to wit, sorrow, sickness, affliction, and death, for the former 
things are passed away. You are going now to Abraham, to Isaac, 
and Jacob, and to the Prophets; men that God hath taken away from 
the evil to come, and that are now resting upon their Beds, each one 
walking in his righteousness. The men then asked. What must we 
do in the holy place? To whom it was answered. You must there 
receive the comfort of all your toil, and have joy for all your sorrow; 
you must reap what you have sown, even the fruit of all your Prayers 
and Tears, and sufferings for the King by the way. In that place 
you must wear Crowns of Gold, and enjoy the perpetual sight and 
Visions of the Holy One, for there you shall see him as he is. .There 
also you shall serve him continually with praise, with shouting and 
thanksgiving, whom you desired to serve in the World, though with 
much difficulty, because of the infirmity of your flesh. There your 
eyes shall be delighted with seeing, and your ears with hearing 
the pleasant voice of the mighty One. There you shall enjoy 
your friends again, that are got thither before you; and there you shall 
with joy receive even every one that follows into the Holy Place after 
you. There also you shall be cloathed with Glory and Majesty, and 
put into an equipage fit to ride out with the King of Glory. When he 
shall come with sound of Trumpet in the Clouds, as upon the wings 
of the wind, you shall come with him; and when he shall sit upon 
the Throne of Judgment, you shall sit by him; yea, and when he shall 
pass Sentence upon all the workers of Iniquity, let them be Angels or 
Men, you also shall have a voice in that Judgment, because they were 
his and your Enemies. Also when he shall again return to the City, 
you shall go too, with sound of Trumpet, and be ever with him. 

Now while they were thus drawing towards the Gate, behold a 
company of the Heavenly Host came out to meet them: to whom it 
was said by the other two shining Ones, These are the men that have 
loved our Lord, when they were in the World; and that have left all 
for his holy Name, and he hath sent us to fetch them, and we have 
brought them thus far on their desired Journey; that they may go in 
and look their Redeemer in the face with joy. Then the Heavenly 
Host gave a great shout, saying. Blessed are they that are called unto 
the Marriage supper of the Lamb: 




























From above looked over the Gate, Enoch, Moses, and Elijah. 

There came out also at this time to meet them several of the Kings 
Trumpeters, cloathed in white and shining Raiment, who with melo¬ 
dious noises and loud, made even the Heavens to echo with their 
sound* These Trumpeters saluted Christian and his Fellow with ten 
thousand welcomes from the world: and this they did with shouting, 
and sound of Trumpet. 

This done, they compassed them round on every side; some went 
before, some behind, and some on the right hand, some on the left (as 
^twere to guard them through the upper Regions) continually sounding 
as they went, with melodious noise, in notes on high; so that the very 
sight was to them that could behold it, as if Heaven it self was come 
down to meet them. Thus therefore they walked on together, and 
as they walked, ever and anon, these Trumpeters, even with joyful 
sound, would, by mixing their Musick with looks and gestures, still 
signify to Christian and his Brother, how welcome they were into 
their company, and with what gladness they came to meet them. 
And now were these two men, as 'twere, in Heaven, before they came 
at it; being swallowed up with the sight of Angels, and with hearing 
of their melodious notes. Here also they had the City itself in view, 
and they thought they heard all the Bells therein to ring, to welcome 
them thereto: but above all, the warm, and joyful thoughts that they 
had about their own dwelling there, with such company, and that for 
ever and ever. Oh! by what tongue or pen can their glorious joy be 
expressed ? And thus they came up to the Gate. 

Now when they were come up to the Gate, there was written over 


















































































it, in Letters of Gold, Blessed are they that do his commandments^ that 
they may have right to the Tree of life; and may enter in through the 
Gates into the City, 

Then I saw in my Dream, that the shining men bid them call at the 
Gate; the which when they did, some from above looked over the 
Gate, to wit, Enoch, cMoses, and Elijah, etc. to whom it was said. 
These Pilgrims are come from the City of Destruction, for the love 
that they bear to the King of this place: and then the Pilgrims gave in 
unto them each man his Certificate, which they had received in the 
beginning. Those therefore were carried in to the King, who when he 
had read them, said. Where are the men ? To whom it was answered. 
They are standing without the Gate, the King then commanded 
to open the Gate, That the righteous Nation, said he, that keepeth 
truth may enter in. 

Now I saw in my Dream, that these two men went in at the Gate; 
and lo, as they entered, they were transfigured, and they had Ra- 
ment put on that shone like Gold. There was also that met them 
with Harps and Crowns, and gave them to them; the Harp to praise 
withal, and the Crowns in token of honor. Then I heard in my 
Dream that all the Bells in the City Rang again for joy, and that it 
was said unto them. Enter ye into the joy of your Lord, I also heard 
the men themselves, that they sang with a loud voice, saying. Bless¬ 
ing, Honour, Glory, and Power, be to him that sitteth upon the 
Throne, and to the Lamb for efber and ever. 

Now just as the Gates were opened to let in the men, I looked in 
after them; and behold, the City shone like the Sun, the Streets also 
were paved with Gold, and in them walked many men, with Crowns 
on their heads. Palms in their hands, and golden Harps to sing praises 
withal. 

There were also of them that had wings, and they answered one 
another without intermission, saying. Holy, Holy, Holy, is the Lord, 
And after that, they shut up the Gates: which when I had seen, 
I wished myself among them. 

Now while I was gazing upon all these things, I turned my head to 
look back, and saw Ignorance come up to the River side; but he soon 

180 





























The King then commanded to open the Gate^ 

















































































































































































































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